Crossing The Line
by Richonne
Summary: Shane once asked himself if he could rape a woman. To answer that question he goes on a trail run with Carol and she barely escapes with her life, but Michonne is his true target. AU. Sequel to Envy.
1. Trial Run

_**Carol Peletier was gathering berries and**_ mushrooms into a pail when it happened.

She'd gone off from the group, just a little ways, looking for anything that would make their dinner of squirrel, rabbit, fish, or whatever meat Daryl Dixon brought back to the group taste better, when a hand wrapped around her mouth. Another powerful arm encircled her as she dropped the pail and struggled to loosen the hands that gripped her and forced her silence, but it was pointless. The arms were slabs of muscle and she could do nothing to loosen them.

She couldn't begin to imagine who had hold of her. It wasn't her husband, Ed. He'd died in the attack that had claimed the lives of Lori Grimes, Amy Harrison, and Maria Pineda the year before. It was that same attack that had forced them out of their first camp, which had been closer to the city, and pushed them back into the hills around the quarry.

"Shhhh…"

Someone whispered in her ear, as he continued taking her deeper into the woods. Carol could only think of four men in the camp who possessed the body type and strength to manhandle her. Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Jim Lasky, and Shane Walsh. The only one of those four men she could picture doing something to frighten her this badly…was Shane.

"Quiet," her captor said softly.

It _was _Shane.

"You gonna be quiet?"

She nodded and felt tears spill from her eyes.

_Sophia. Think about Sophia. Don't do anything that will keep you from getting back to her._

"I'm going to let go. If you scream, so help me God, I will snap your neck like a dry little twig, Carol. Understand me?"

She nodded again, with more vigor, and he let go of her mouth. She kept her word and kept quiet. He turned her to face him and he took either side of her head. She feared he was going to twist and put an end to her life anyway.

"I'll be good. I won't scream," she said in a shaky voice, still with tears spilling down her face.

Shane nodded encouragingly. "Good. Good. Come with me."

He took her hand and began leading her deeper into the trees. They were so far gone from camp now she knew that she could scream bloody murder and unless someone was down by the water they wouldn't hear her. They also wouldn't be able to pinpoint her location, not the way sound echoed up there.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, crying, trying to keep her voice steady. Weakness could sometimes stoke the fires of cruelty in a monster. She'd learned that the hard way at Ed's fists.

"Not if you do what I say and don't give me a reason," Shane said.

He stopped and looked around. The ground was relatively flat. Decades of fallen leaves had made the ground spongy and soft. Shane's eyes went to Carol. She didn't have a bad body. She was older than him by at least ten years, maybe more. She had iron gray hair that she kept cut in a pixie cut. If she hadn't been married with a daughter he would have thought she was a dyke. Hell, for all he knew, she could still be a dyke. Either way, he didn't give a shit. He wasn't here for her beauty and he didn't give two flying fucks about her sexuality. He was here to test himself and he told her that.

"I'm here, Carol, to test myself. I need to test my resolve. I need to know what kind of a man I am."

She looked around, wondering if she could outrun Shane. She couldn't. She knew it. There was no one around to help her. She was with a man who'd gone mad. She could see that in his eyes. He was insane, and he was going to hurt her, and there was no avoiding it. This wasn't her first time being hurt by a man. Her stepfather had molested her. Every single time she'd submitted to Ed sexually it had felt like rape to her. This was just one more time. She could survive it. She'd have to, for Sophia.

"I just want to see my little girl again. Please, I'm all she's got left, Shane."

"I understand that, Carol," he said, shaking his head. "I promise, you do right, you'll get back to her."

It was a lie. Carol knew a lie when she heard it and Shane Walsh was lying to her now. He was going to rape her and then he was going to kill her to ensure she couldn't tell on him. She was a dead woman if she didn't think of something soon. Her eyes searched the wood. There was nothing around to use as a weapon except the small knife she kept tucked in her boot.

"Rick has something I want: Michonne. She's made it clear she's not going to choose me over him, so I'm going to have to take what I want from her. Do you understand, Carol? I need to know if I can rape a woman. I need to know if I can do that terrible thing. I figure if I can do it to a friend I can do it to her. Do you understand?"

She nodded, pretending that what he said was the most reasonable, logical thing in the world and that she could sympathize with him. In truth she didn't understand, at all, but that was beside the point. Keep the monster happy. That's all that mattered now.

Shane looked around again, to make sure they were alone, and when he did Carol decided she had one shot to get away. She threw the hardest punch she could at his left ear. He cried out in pain and staggered away. Wasting no time, Carol made a run for it. She put every ounce of strength she had into running away, striving to get back to the camp, to the people who would protect her. Heavy weight slammed into her and she screamed as she went down. She screamed and screamed as hard as she could and prayed that if God was there, if He was listening, he would save her.

"Please, don't!" she shouted. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'll be good."

"Yeah, that's right bitch, you fight," Shane said, pushing her hands away as she struggled to keep him away from her. "You put up a fight. Let's see if I got it in me to do this."

He forced a knee between her legs and shoved her shirt up. Carol looked into his eyes. They were bright with malice and bestial lust. Whatever kind of man he may have been before the Turn, that man was long gone, replaced by a dark creature that was insane and cruel.

He pulled at her pants. Carol struggled to keep her legs closed. Seeing that wasn't going to work, she brought her left foot up and tried kicking Shane across the side of his head. He shoved her leg away, painfully hard, and slapped her. The hit was so hard stars exploded in front of her eyes and she felt the ground tilt beneath her, making her feel as though she was on some carnival ride or a merry-go-round. Maybe God was answering her prayer in some form or another. Maybe she would black out, Shane would kill her, and she would never regain consciousness to suffer what was to come.

That wasn't to be her fate, however. Shane flipped her over and she sluggishly tried to lift her heavy limbs. They didn't want to cooperate. She heard the jingle of his belt, the short sound of his zipper, and then felt his hands finish pulling her trousers down. Her head cleared from a shot of adrenaline at what she knew was coming next. Carol tried to claw at the ground so she could crawl away from Shane but his hold on her was too strong.

The feel of him at her entrance told Carol the fight was useless. Still, she continued to struggle. She continued to plead for him to stop. It seemed that both of those things only excited the animal in Shane. He thrust into her, setting her vagina on fire as he entered her. She was dry with fear and the pain was excruciating.

"Please, Shane, you're hurting me! Stop, please!"

No amount of begging inspired a feeling of mercy in him, however. He continued thrusting, violently, erratically, and when he came it was harder than he ever had in his life. He found himself almost crying from the pleasure and the power rush he felt as he held Carol down beneath him, overpowering her, forcing her to give him what he wanted.

"Oh, God," he moaned, and began to laugh. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "I've never come so hard in my life."

His hands stroked the back of her head. He softly kissed her neck as he deflated inside of her. When he withdrew, he saw blood coated his cock and spilled from her bruised womanhood. She wept quietly in the dirt and waited for whatever would come next. Shane stood and zipped up. He looked around, checking that they were still alone, and then he looked back down at Carol.

"I wish you hadn't lied to me, Carol," he said. "See, now I can't trust you to keep our little secret. You said you wouldn't run and then you-"

She rolled over and spit at him. "You were going to kill me anyway, you sick fuck."

She was right. He saw no sense in denying it. He couldn't trust her to keep her mouth shut. Women couldn't be trusted, period. He watched her pulling her pants up and zipping them. She knelt on the ground, her head bent.

"I'm sorry, Carol. I'll make this quick and painless as possible."

He reached out, intending to snap her neck, but she brought the knife she kept tucked in her boot up and jabbed it right through his left hand. Shane screamed and fell back, and Carol made another run for it. She had her daughter to live for. She had to try.

Carol dodged between the trees, feeling burning pain so intense between her legs that she found it was a wonder she could actually keep moving. Her vision was graying at the edges. She dared one look back, afraid Shane would be there, his gun leveled at her. He was in pursuit, but the pain in his hand distracted him and he couldn't get a clean shot at her as she continued dodging through the trees.

"Help! Help me!" Carol screamed. She realized she was getting closer to the camp. Surely someone heard her.

"Carol?"

She stopped as she nearly ran Carl Grimes over. She looked back. Shane wasn't in sight. He must have spotted Carol and hung back, hiding in the trees. Carl took in the blood staining her trousers, between her legs, looked at her swollen face and busted lip, and called for help.

She saw Shane then, a dark, shadowy figure, moving through the trees. Her daughter, Sophia, was not far off, looking at her mother in fear and confusion, unaware that Shane had a gun leveled on her. The message was clear.

_Tell, I'll kill your daughter._

She knew he would do it. There was even the possibility he was ruthless enough to kill Rick, Daryl, Jim, or any other man in the camp before he finished her daughter off, and then her, if she told. She'd long ago learned, the hard way, that threats from men like Shane were rarely empty.

"Carol?"

Rick had arrived. Shane disappeared behind a tree, leaving Carol trembling in doubt and fear.

"Carol?" Rick asked, reaching out to her.

Carol backed away from him. The feelings of shame and violation from what Shane had done to her were fresh and intense, and the thought of another man touching her made her sick to her stomach and made her skin crawl.

"What happened to you? You're covered in dirt and mud. You're bleeding-"

"I fell," she said, using an old lie that had always worked in the past to keep people, who really didn't want to get involved in her troubles anyway but asked out of politeness and phony concern, at bay. "I took a terrible fall. I almost rolled off the edge of the rocks into the quarry. I would have missed the water and hit the shore," she said. "I could have died."

The look of concern in Rick's eyes was genuine. "My God. What were you doing all the way out there?"

"I was going to look for berries and mushrooms."

Rick looked her over. "We found your pail. Why didn't you take-"

"For God sake, Rick! I've had a bad fall and I'm still shook. Please, enough with the questions!"

She'd learned one good way to deflect was to guilt trip. It worked on Rick now.

"I'm sorry, of course," he said. "Let's get you back to camp, get you cleaned up."

"I don't need help, I'm fine. Sophia!"

"You have blood between your legs, Carol," Rick said suspiciously, perhaps not as easy to deflect as Carol had hoped. He was tenacious and he wasn't convinced that a fall was all that had happened to her. Of course all he had was her word and no proof to the contrary.

"I started my period, is all. Didn't expect it. I'll get something when I get back to camp."

Sophia came to Carol and she wrapped her arms around her daughter. Shane still lurked behind the tree. He pointed to Sophia, then put the nozzle of his gun to the side of his head. Then he mouthed words that struck terror into her heart.

_I'll rape her too._

"Let's go."

She started back with her daughter, to the camp, and felt Rick shadowing her the entire way. Carol had a gun in her tent. She was, from that moment on, going to carry it everywhere she went. If opportunity struck, she was going to take Shane out. She would die and take him with her before she let him touch her baby girl.

"Carol, is there something you want to tell me?" Rick said, when they reached her tent.

She urged Sophia inside and then turned to face Rick. She wanted to tell him. She did, but she didn't know for sure if Rick had what it took to protect her and her daughter. He was a good man, but he was weak. He lived by rules that didn't fit in with this new world. She didn't believe he was prepared to deal with a man like Shane. She didn't think he could kill a man he'd once called a friend.

"No," she finally said, seeing Shane walk into camp, his eyes glued to her. "Nothing to tell. I just took a tumble."

Carol stepped into her tent and zipped it closed behind her.

* * *

**A/N**: Yes. I've gone there. I've got Shane as a completely evil S.O.B. in the same vein as comics!Governor. He's completely gone over to the dark side. He has no interest in Carol outside of just what he told her. He wanted to know if he could sink as low as raping a woman. Now he knows he can and Michonne is his true target. More chapters to come. I'm looking forward to feedback from you guys!


	2. Second Attempt

**_Rick spent the next few days_** keeping a very close eye on Carol Peletier. She went about camp, he noticed, with her head down. She did her chores, she contributed, but she didn't go about it with her usual quiet cheer. Something besides a bad tumble, as she called it, had happened to her in the woods that day, but getting her to open up about it was proving to be a fruitless effort. She rebuffed, usually with anger, any attempts he made to get her to talk.

Since talking wasn't going to work, Rick set about the task of watching. He was a trained police officer, after all. Observation was something he was good at. Using his resources was also something he was good at. Daryl Dixon was one such resource who had even better powers of observation than he did.

"Daryl, I need a word."

"What?" Daryl asked. He was wiping blood and dirt off his crossbow, and checking the integrity of the bolts.

"You notice anything weird about Carol?"

"Since she 'fell down,' you mean?" he said, using quotey-fingers to indicate his disbelief of her story about taking a fall.

"Yeah. She says she took a tumble."

Daryl shook his head. "Naw, man. I saw her face. She ain't got that shit in any fall. Somebody did that to her."

"Did you see her that day?"

Daryl froze in his work of cleaning and maintaining the crossbow. After a moment he put the weapon down and stood to face Rick.

"You accusing me of hurtin' that woman?"

Rick realized what his words must have sounded like and he shook his head. "No. I want to know what you think happened to her."

"You're the cop. You tellin' me you can't figure it out?"

"Just say what you think, Daryl."

"Well, if I didn't know that almost every man in this camp was honorable, I'd say she was raped. Don't do no good trying to ask her about it if she won't talk."

Rick nodded. "So you've tried to pry the truth out of her too?"

"I didn't try to pry, I just asked. She said she fell down and then told me to mind my own business. That's what I'm doing. I'm minding my own."

"Keep an eye on her. If you notice anything at all, please, come tell me. We gotta look out for our people, especially our women and children. They may be capable warriors against the walkers but one fact remains: they need protecting from the living."

Daryl nodded and sat back down. "Will do."

Rick left Daryl to his bow and went to the edge of the camp. Carol refused to step foot in the woods alone. It made sense if someone had assaulted her. She wouldn't be keen to make herself a target. Now she was washing laundry and watching her daughter, Sophia. She kept a close eye on the girl as a rule, but in the past few days she'd taken to obsessively watching her.

"Carol."

She sighed, knowing what was coming. "God, Rick. Just leave me alone. Please."

"I need to know what happened that day. I need to know-"

"Why, Rick? I'm not your responsibility. I'm not your burden. You're not helping me by staying in my face, prying."

"You're about to crack under the stress. I can see it."

"You're the cause of that stress. I'd be okay if you'd just leave me be!"

She abandoned her wash to run to the edge of the clearing where she sat watching her daughter. They'd drawn looks from the others. Rick decided he'd harassed Carol enough for the day. If she wanted his help she knew he was there.

The familiar sound of a jeep on the access road signaled Shane's return. He had loaded the back of the little truck with gallons of water and gave his usual warning of boiling before drinking. His hand, Rick had noted three days ago, was wrapped in a one looked fresh.

"You never did tell me what happened to your hand," said Rick.

"Ran it up on a sharp rock," Shane said. "Got some antibiotic ointment on it, and we got a bottle of Cipro. It'll be all right."

"You notice anything off with Carol?"

"Who ain't noticed, Rick?" Shane said, and then walked away.

Failing to show an interest in the subject didn't sit right with Rick. Shane had been a cop too, and those instincts to serve and protect didn't die easily. Then again, the world had gone to shit, and Shane wasn't the same man he'd been before the Turn.

Or was he?

Rick often thought about the changes in his former friend. Shane had always had a sharp edge, a darkness inside him, and that had made him a good cop with good instincts. Still, since the turn, Rick had wondered more than once if perhaps he hadn't been made for this world from birth. Shane thrived on the constant danger and violence. It wasn't breaking him-it was making him stronger. There was very little Shane wasn't willing to do to keep himself and his group safe. There was very little he wasn't willing to do to get what he wanted.

Rick felt that he was on the verge of an answer. He just wished it would reveal himself sooner rather than later.

* * *

**_Shane Walsh stared at the roof_** of his tent. Three days had passed and no lynch mob had showed up at his door to drag him out to the woods and string him up in a tree. He knew he'd gotten away with it. Carol wasn't going to say anything no matter how much Rick badgered her. He had found her weakness, and that was Sophia. He had to be careful with that angle, though. Nothing could drive a woman to kill like maternal instinct. If he pushed too hard on the threat of hurting Sophia, Carol may just snap and use a gun to take him out in front of the whole camp.

The encounter he'd had with her in the woods played like a movie behind his eyes and he felt a stirring in his groin. He needed it again. He needed that rush of power. He thought of perhaps singling Andrea Harris out, but she was too strong-willed a woman. She never left camp alone and she always kept a gun on her. He wasn't sure she knew how to use it, but it was too much of a risk that she'd get off a lucky shot. She would most definitely tell if he came at her the wrong way, which was unlikely to even be possible because she'd made it clear she would fuck him. A willing partner wasn't what he needed, or wanted.

For the first time Shane was beginning to understand Ed Peletier, and why he'd done what he'd done to Carol. He couldn't understand the attraction to Sophia that Ed had displayed. Kids had no interest for Shane. That was truly sick in the worst possible way. A woman was a different story. A woman could pose a threat when the fighting started. That's what made it so good. Overcoming the threat. Carol had surprised him by putting up a fight and getting away, but she hadn't surprised him with her silence. After all, keeping silence is what made Carol the perfect victim. She was strong in some ways, very weak in all the right ones. That made her the perfect target.

He remembered the scent of Carol's fear, so sharp in his nose, like salt in a wound. He remembered the terror in her eyes. He remembered the wiggling of her body beneath his, the feel of every muscle in her body straining to get away from him, as he'd pressed her face first into the soil and taken her. She'd struggled _so hard_, so wonderfully hard. She'd given it her all but it wasn't enough. He was more powerful than her. This new world may have taken away his control over his life, his destiny, but he'd learned it was possible to win that feeling back by taking control of a woman.

_If it's that good with Carol, imagine how much sweeter it'll be with Michonne? _Shane thought.

Michonne was a warrior. When he took her, and he _was _going to take her, it would require skill, effort. He was going to do it out in the open, as he had with Carol. He was going to go on a run with her, lure her somewhere, and give her the room she needed to put up a really good fight. Then, when he overpowered her…

The rush Shane got from the fantasy was too much. He needed to feel that again. He needed the terror in a woman's eyes. It was late. He could sneak into Carol's tent and take her. Nobody would know because she would never tell.

Very careful not to make noise, Shane peered from his tent and observed the camp. Dale was on watch, atop his RV. His back was to Shane. The rest of the camp was empty. He looked for Rick, or Daryl, to be skulking in the shadows. He caught sight of Rick as he disappeared into Michonne's tent. It was no surprise. She'd been gone on an extended run with Jim and Glenn and had only gotten back that evening.

_One day that'll be me slipping into her tent, and into her body, after Rick's dead…_ Shane thought before slipping back into his own tent.

After giving himself another half an hour to make certain he was alone, Shane left his tent and went past the one belonging to the little Korean guy, Glenn, to the tent belonging to Carol and Sophia. Carefully, he unzipped the flap, and slipped inside.

* * *

**_Nighttime was the worst. Carol needed_** her rest but she was afraid to go to sleep. What if Shane decided to kill her and her daughter in their sleep? The idea made her positively tremble with fear. Rick was right. She was about to crack under the stress. Every night she waited until Sophia was asleep before she let the tears fall as her mind replayed that awful day over and over again. She checked to make sure her gun was within reach and then snuggled down into her sleeping bag. Nights were getting chilly and it was hard to get warm at times.

Her mind, as she drifted to sleep, went to Michonne. Shane had said that Michonne was his true target. She wanted to warn the woman, but at the same time she feared that exposing Shane's secret would somehow lead to Sophia getting hurt. Michonne wasn't like her. Michonne was a fighter. Carol believed that if Shane attacked her it was likely Michonne would kill him. She was deadly with or without that sword.

At first Carol thought the weight that pressed atop her was part of the nightmare of what had happened with Shane a few days ago. Then she realized that the weight was real. Shane had finally decided to make a move. He was going to kill her and do God only knew what to Sophia before killing her, too.

"You know how to keep your mouth shut," Shane said. His breath was hot and stinking in her face. "That's good, Carol. You keep that up, you give me what I want, and Sophia will stay safe."

She reached for something, a gun, and Shane easily wrested it from her grip. He grinned down at her.

"Ain't that cute," he said, and then forced his lips over hers."You know how hard it gets me when you fight. I'm startin' to wonder if you don't like it just a little bit. You a dirty little whore, Carol? Are you? Tell me you are. _Tell me_."

"I'm a dirty whore," she said in a strangled whisper.

"You liked it when I fucked you, didn't you?" he said, knowing she didn't, but he wanted to make her agree. He wanted to just _make _her.

She nodded. She cried silent tears, trying not to wake her daughter. She probably had years of experience staying quiet for Sophia's sake.

"You want it again, don't you? Say it."

"I...I want it..." a small sob escaped her and she hated him with every fiber of her being.

He tossed the gun beside Sophia, who remained sleeping, unaware of her mother's predicament beside her. Shane put the edge of his knife against Carol's throat and she stilled at once.

"Good girl," he said, relishing the fear in her eyes. "Now undo my belt."

* * *

**_Rick grunted as Michonne rode him_**, moving her hips against him in a hard, fast rhythm. He could feel her body squeezing him from the inside an orgasm shook her. It was too much, and he came, emptying himself into the condom. They were going through those pretty quickly and would need to go on a run soon to acquire more.

Michonne collapsed beside him in a sweaty, breathless heap, and then draped a strong, naked leg over him. Even as their breath settled, Michonne could see something bothered Rick. They hadn't had much chance to talk since her return.

"What's the matter, Baby?" Michonne asked.

"I can't stop thinking about Carol," Rick admitted.

Michonne side-eyed him. "I'm going to give you five seconds to explain that comment before I take my katana to you."

"You've been on a run so you don't know, but something bad happened with Carol a few days ago. She came back to camp in distress, covered with mud, her face bruised and bleeding, and blood between her legs. She claimed she'd had a nasty fall and had started her period while she was in the woods looking for mushrooms and berries but I think she was raped."

Michonne immediately got up and began pulling on her clothes, leaving Rick startled and confused at the urgency in her actions.

"Michonne?"

"I need to talk to her."

Rick pulled his jeans on. "Won't do any good. It's the middle of the night and she won't open up. She refuses to talk about it."

"She's going to talk to me," Michonne said.

The first thing that popped into her mind when she heard Rick say rape was Shane. She remembered, not long ago after he and Rick had returned from a successful run, that he'd come into her tent and tried to assault her.

"Any ideas who did it?" she asked.

Rick looked down and shook his head. "No."

"Really, Rick? None?"

For some reason Shane's face flitted across Rick's mind, but he pushed it away. He knew Michonne didn't like Shane. He was always after her to dump Rick for him, just as he'd tried to get Lori to do before her death. That didn't mean Shane was a rapist.

"We'll talk to Carol, together," Michonne said, deciding not to push the subject. Rick was going to have to face the truth about Shane sooner or later. Sooner, if Michonne had anything to say about it, because she was finally going to tell him about Shane's attack on her the night they'd had the good supply run. Guilt burned at Michonne's belly. Perhaps if she'd said something that night, nothing would have happened to Carol, because Shane would no longer be in their camp.

She wanted to be fair to herself, and try to tell herself that she had no way of knowing Shane would attack another woman in the camp, but that excuse didn't sit well with her. She felt she'd failed Carol, indeed the entire camp, by keeping her mouth shut about Shane's attack that night in her tent. She wouldn't make another mistake by letting Shane get away with it, if she could help it.

"Rick! Get out here! Now!"

That was Daryl Dixon's voice and he was pissed. Rick finished pulling on his socks and then headed out of the tent, Michonne close behind, her sword drawn. He'd just stepped out when he saw Shane emerge from Carol's tent, staring hard at Daryl, who had his crossbow trained on him. The dull silver light of the moon glinted off the steel in Shane's hand and Rick knew what was about to happen.

"Daryl, look out!"

Daryl dodged to the side just as Shane fired the gun.

* * *

**_Daryl Dixon remained in the shadows_** of the trees that surrounded the camp and kept a watch on Carol and Sophia's tent. It was his third night on lookout duty, not for walkers, but for them. Despite Carol telling him to mind his own business the day she was attacked, Daryl had started watching her tent that very night, and he'd continue to do so until her attacker revealed himself.

Daryl had no issue with leaving people to pair off in peace. How many times had he gone into the woods for a piss and heard people coupling? He didn't give two shits about what other people did-as long as it was consensual and no harm was done. Rape, however, was another story, where plenty of harm was done. He'd dodged Rick's question about seeing Carol when she returned to camp three days ago, but he _had _seen her. He'd seen the blood between her legs, the obvious damage to her face from a living man's hand. He'd seen the way she'd walked, as though every step was agony that came from the core of her being.

Something else Daryl noticed was Shane Walsh. He'd arrived back at camp at the same time as Carol, Rick, Carl, and Sophia, but hanging at a distance, offering no support or comfort. Added to that was that his hand was dripping blood from a fresh wound. He'd been glaring at Carol the entire time, issuing silent threats with his eyes and oblivious to anyone in the camp who may have been watching him, as Daryl was.

It was only a matter of time before Shane would make another move on Carol. Daryl knew what abusers were like. He'd grown up under the fist of one, just as Carol had. He could recognize a kindred spirit in her, and he thought that perhaps that was why he was so keen to look out for her now. Abusers, he knew from firsthand experience, got off on hurting those weaker than themselves. It was a drug for them, an addiction, and Shane was going to eventually need another fix.

The question was, what was Rick going to do? The man was good at denying what stared him in the face. That he refused to see the obvious clues that Shane had attacked Carol and would soon go after Michonne, even if it meant he had to kill Rick to do it, made Daryl doubt that Rick had the stones to put a stop to Shane. He could have told Rick that Shane was Carol's attacker, but he had history with Shane. They'd been friends in the world that was, before the Turn. Rick would deny it, he would want proof, and that would only serve to put Carol in danger.

It was no surprise to Daryl when Shane peered out of his tent and then, half an hour or so later, crept out and snuck over to Carol's, where he slipped inside. Without hesitation, Daryl started across the camp. When he arrived at Carol's tent, he could hear whispers and Carol's fearful voice.

Daryl ripped open the tent and trained his crossbow on Shane.

"Come outta there, motherfucker," Daryl said.

Shane was truly surprised at Daryl's arrival. Surprised and angry. He hadn't seen the redneck anywhere in camp, watching for him. Apparently Daryl was a sneaky little bastard. He was smart, too, to have figured out who had attacked Carol. Either Daryl was smart or, Shane figured, he was the idiot to believe everyone in the camp would be as blind as Rick as to what he'd become.

"Rick! Get out here! Now!"

He saw Rick and Michonne, from his peripheral vision, emerge from her tent. Glenn also stirred and peeped his head out. Daryl kept his eyes on Shane but he didn't see the gun in his hand. All he saw was the movement followed by Rick's panicked warning. He tried to dive out of the way but he was too late. Shane fired and something like a hot poker slashed across his left bicep.

"Shane!" Rick shouted.

Shane was quick, and he was ready. He fired blindly back at them, uncaring of who he may have hit, as he fled toward his jeep. The engine fired to life. Daryl, and the others who'd awakened at the noise, watched as Shane spun it around and took off out of the quarry. Carol's sobs were loud in the night, as was Sophia's confused and frightened pleas to know what was going on.

Daryl's eyes met Rick's.

"There's your guy," Daryl said. "Now what are you gonna do about him?"

Rick looked to where Shane's jeep had sat and he felt his stomach clench in rage. How had he not seen it? How had he not put it together? Was he really such a fool that he couldn't piece together Carol's injuries, her behavior, and Shane's wounded hand all on the same day, at the same time? Had he wanted to believe that he could never have been friends with a monster so badly that he'd ignored what was right in front of his face?

"I'm gonna find him," Rick said, in answer to Daryl's question. "And I'm gonna kill him."


	3. The Kindness of Strangers

"_**Dad?"**_

Carl had come out of the tent he shared with Rick when the commotion with Shane had started. Now he stood with a dark stain spreading from his side. He swayed on his feet and collapsed just as Rick reached him.

"Carl? Oh, God, please…no. Carl!"

Someone screamed on the other side of the camp, and chaos broke out. Michonne wanted to check on Carl but something was happening that demanded her attention.

"Rick, walkers!" Dale shouted, from atop the RV. "There's dozens of them!"

"Carol, get Sophia and the kids into the RV," Daryl said.

"Your arm!" Carol said.

"Just a graze. Go on!"

Daryl started forward with Michonne just as Andrea emerged from her tent and found Jacqui being swarmed by two walkers. Andrea tried to go to her aid but the walkers forced Jacqui onto her back and sank their teeth into her flesh: one in her neck, another on her shoulder. Michonne beheaded them and then looked at Jacqui's wounds. She was bleeding profusely, and there was nothing to be done to save her. She nodded once at Michonne, who used her sword to put a quick and painless end to her.

It seemed, however, that no matter how many walkers Michonne cut down, two more came to replace them. Daryl ran out of bolts and now relied on his knife.

"How many of these bastards are there?" he asked, stabbing one after another in the head.

"Where the hell are they coming from? We've never seen walkers so far up here!" shouted Andrea.

Michonne's eyes were drawn to the many people, mostly women and children, who were being attacked and taken down by walkers. They tried to fight but oftentimes they were simply overwhelmed. Dale remained atop the RV, trying to shoot down walkers from the safety of his perch. He rarely missed but they seemed not to make much of a dent in the crowd.

"Sophia, no!" Carol shouted.

_Please, no,_ Michonne thought. _Not another child. Don't let that woman suffer yet another tragedy_…

Daryl ended the walker that had bitten into little Sophia's shoulder but it was too little, too late. Blood spewed from Sophia's neck like a geyser and she collapsed seconds later, into her mother's arms. Michonne watched Rick emerge from the RV and slam the door shut, his shirt soaked with blood and an empty look in his eyes. She knew a moment of panic then. Had he only left Carl's side to help the group, or because the boy had died? The idea of Carl being dead horrified Michonne, and she almost paid for it with her life. She cut down another walker, hoping to God that the boy she loved like a son was still alive.

* * *

_**When morning came the sunrise illuminated**_ the carnage and it was terrible. Tents lay collapsed and soaked with blood. The bodies of their people lay scattered around the camp, partially eaten, along with the bodies of the walkers that had attacked them. Michonne counted almost thirty-five walkers but it had seemed like so many more during the attack. Everyone who was left alive was soaked with blood and gore, and they were exhausted.

"Carl?" Michonne asked, hurrying over to Rick.

"He's alive. He's in the RV," Rick answered.

He looked dazed as he took in the sight of their camp. No one wept. No one made a sound. The silence was unnatural and eerie. Finally Andrea began to speak with Carol, who sat holding Sophia's body with a blank expression. She kept rocking back and forth, staring at nothing. She was undoubtedly in shock and didn't respond to Andrea's voice.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out. Michonne and the rest of the group whirled to see Jim's body drop next to Jacqui's. He had a bite on his left forearm.

"What are we gonna do?" asked Dale.

"We have to get help for Carl," said Rick. "We need a doctor. He needs his wound stitchd up. The bullet fragmented. I pulled some of it out but there's a piece left in there. The bleeding is stopped, though."

"We can't just go to a hospital," Glenn said. "We have no idea where a doctor is."

"The CDC," Rick answered. "Fort Benning…Either place will have been protected by the government. If anywhere is still standing my money is on the CDC. It's closer. You all don't have to come but I'm getting Carl there."

"Give us enough time to pack some supplies," Michonne said. "Carl sounds like he's doing okay but we won't make it anywhere if we don't have supplies for the road."

Rick nodded and then disappeared into the RV to sit with his son. Michonne did a quick headcount. They had herself, Rick, Carl, Andrea, Carol, Glenn, Dale, Daryl, and three members of the Hernandez family, who stood listening to their plans to move out.

"I've got family in Birmingham," Jorge said. "We're going to try to get to them."

"Are you sure about that?" Daryl asked. "That's a long trip and you could run into any kind of trouble."

Jorge looked at his wife and son and nodded. "We're sure. We've got a gun, ammo, knives, and food. We'll make it."

Daryl wasn't going to try to talk them out of it if they were determined, and he could tell that they were, all three of them. He nodded at them and watched them head off to their fallen tent to begin packing.

"We don't have time to bury the dead, do we?" said Dale.

"Burials are for the living. The dead won't care they were left to rot," said Michonne.

"I won't leave her," Carols said, speaking for the first time. "Go on without us."

"Carol," Michonne said, kneeling beside her. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I? Sophia was all I had to live for. Now she's gone." Carol looked down at her daughter's ghostly pale face. "When she turns I'll end her…then I'll end me."

"We can take her with us," said Andrea. "We can find a place and bury her."

"Just go," Carol insisted. "Just leave me to die."

"Instead of giving up," Daryl interjected, "why don't you chose to fight? Live to find that motherfucker and kill him."

Michonne, Andrea, and the others left Carol with Sophia while they hurriedly packed. They filled the back of Carol's old truck with supplies, including a couple of tents. They couldn't take enough of the tents for everyone to have their own space. People would have to share while they were on the road.

The Hernandez family left first. By the time the rest of the group had packed up Sophia had begun to turn. Carol cried as she looked down at her daughter.

"Mama loves you, Sophia. I'm so sorry."

She plunged a knife into Sophia's skull, ending her, and then gently crawled out from under the body. She stood and looked at Daryl, then Michonne.

"I'll help you wrap her," said Andrea.

Once that job was done, and Sophia's body was tied securely to the top of the RV, she climbed into the back seat of the old truck that had belonged to her and Ed.

Andrea looked at Michonne once they were belted in. "Do you think Carl will make the trip?"

"I hope so," Michonne said. She didn't know if she could take losing Carl. She definitely didn't think Rick could.

* * *

_**The CDC was a smoking pile**_ of rubble, dashing their hopes of finding help there. Michonne didn't hold out much hope that Ft. Benning would be any different, but she was going to go along, for Rick's sake. If Carl died, and it was likely he would, then he had to believe he'd done everything in his power to save his son.

Life in the camp had made it easy for Michonne to forget how difficult travel with a group was. Travel was slower than they wanted, but they had to worry about conserving fuel and not getting stranded somewhere there weren't cars to siphon fuel from. Dale's RV suffered a breakdown in the middle of a traffic snarl, and while they raided the cars for fuel and supplies, they'd narrowly avoided a herd of over fifty walkers.

"We need shelter," Rick had said. "There's farms in the area. Maybe we can find one to hole up in for the night. We can't risk staying out on the road with herds that size wandering around."

Daryl and Glenn set off in search of shelter and found an abandoned church. They'd only located it because the bell system had rang and they feared it would draw the herd back to them.

Now night had fallen and they'd settled into the church, after having cleared it of a few stray walkers that had been sitting in the pews, seeming to go through the motions of attending an eternal church service. Carl had been stretched out on the altar and a pillow brought in to make him comfortable.

Sophia was given a proper burial in the cemetery in the back of the church, in a grave Daryl and Glenn dug for her.

Bone deep weariness set in on Michonne. She'd stayed up all night fighting at the camp and then travelled for two days, getting very little rest. She hoped she would sleep well that night, but worry for Carl would probably keep her mind from shutting down. She went outside to get some fresh air and sat down on the front steps beside Carol.

"You're his target," Carol said.

"What?"

"Shane. You were his target. He wants you but you'd made it clear that you'd chosen Rick over him. He said, and I'm quoting here because I'll never forget it, 'I'm going to have to take what I want from her.' He said, and again I'm quoting, 'I need to know if I can rape a woman. I need to know if I can do that terrible thing. I figure if I can do it to a friend I can do it to her.'"

Carol's bitterness was obvious. She'd apparently been thinking it over and she blamed Michonne, at least in part, for what happened to her.

"Carol-"

"He practiced on me so he could get ready for you. He _practiced_ on me!"

"I'm sorry, Carol."

She shook her head. She was so full of bitterness and grief she didn't know how to process it. She'd been brutalized, she'd lost her daughter, and the man who'd hurt her and brought in the walkers that had taken her daughter from her had simply gotten away with it. She wanted blood in ways she'd never known in her life and she was powerless to get it. She needed someone to blame.

"He came into my tent a couple of months ago. He tried to assault me but I fought him off."

"And Rick didn't kick him out?" Carol said incredulously.

"I didn't tell Rick. I thought I'd handled it."

Michonne saw the slap coming a mile away but she did nothing to avoid it.

"Carol," Rick said, from his place in the church entrance.

"No!" Carol shouted, before turning back to Michonne. "If you'd spoken up this may not have happened to me. I hate you. I hate you all. Stay away from me!"

Carol stormed off to the back of the church, pushing past Daryl, who watched her go without a word. Dale, Glenn, and Andrea, who were sitting around a campfire, remained silent.

"She's wrong. You couldn't have known what he would do," Rick said, before taking a seat next to her.

"Don't try to let me off the hook, Rick. I should have told you the night it happened."

"I wouldn't have kicked him out. I know that, so do you. I would have fought with him, I would have threatened him, but I would have given him one more chance because he and I used to be friends. I would have because that's the kind of guy I was."

"Was?"

Rick nodded and stared toward the fire where some rabbits were roasting. "My days of mercy and kindness for unstable people are over. I see Shane again, our history won't mean a damn thing. I'll make him die a slow, hard death."

He returned inside to sit with Carl. Michonne lay on one of the pews and listened to the boy's moans of pain. He had a bad night. A fever set in and the pain killers ran out, not that they helped him much. Rick stayed up, watching Carl, afraid he was watching his son slip away to a hard, prolonged death.

"We need antibiotics," Rick said. "We need good pain killers. The map has a town not far from here. I'm going to make a run."

"You can't leave him," Michonne said. "You can't, Rick. If he dies while you're away you'll never forgive yourself."

"I can't sit on my ass and do nothing, either. This is my boy!"

"Glenn and I will make a run. We'll get what he needs," she said. "Stay here."

"She's right, man. Carl needs his Pop with him," said Daryl.

Rick finally nodded and sat down on the chair in front of the altar, where Carl lay moaning and sweating and pale. He begged for his father to do something to make the pain stop. His pained pleas ripped at Rick's heart. He was helpless to save his son, or to ease his pain.

He looked up at Michonne. "Hurry."

* * *

_**The traffic snarl was bad but**_ Michonne managed to navigate Carol's truck through. They found an exit that led to a small down. The deserted streets were so quiet it made the sound of the engine sound like a roar. Michonne shut off the engine, only to jump when Glenn tapped her arm.

"Look there," he said. "Pharmacy."

There was a horse tethered out front. "Looks like somebody else is here, making a run," she said. "Move carefully. We don't need to get shot trying to get medicine."

* * *

_**Maggie Greene melted into the shadows**_ when she heard the doors to a car slam closed. She'd made many a run into town for bandages, antibiotics, ointments, and other supplies, and never encountered another soul, either healthy or sick. She'd allowed herself to believe that the town was empty and safe, that she didn't need a gun or a knife. She thought she was a fool to have allowed herself to become so complacent. Now she may have to pay for that foolishness with her life, if the people walking toward the pharmacy were hostile.

It was pointless to skulk in the shadows. Her horse was tethered out front. They knew someone was inside. Still she continued trying to blend into the darkness as a black woman with a sword and a Chinese guy entered the store. They spotted her at once.

"Hello," the woman said. She tried a hesitant smile, sensing Maggie's fear. "You don't have to worry. We're not bad people. We're not looking for trouble."

_So you say_, Maggie thought. She nodded politely and clutched a box of tampons to her chest as though they were a shield. Maggie thought the threat was directly in front of her, coming closer to her, and she didn't see the thing beside her, on the other side of the shelf, reaching for her.

"Look out!" the woman suddenly shouted.

Maggie gasped as cold fingers gripped at her arm and the stink of rotten flesh wafted over her. The woman rushed forward, her sword drawn. She brought the blade down hard, severing the hand that gripped at her. It dropped to the floor with a sloppy, disgusting thud. The woman thrust her sword forward, jabbing the sword between the eyes of the man that had tried to grab her, putting an end to him once and for all.

"You…you just killed that man!" Maggie said in shock. "You cut off his arm and then killed him!"

The woman frowned at Maggie, wiped her sword clean, and then sheathed it.

"That wasn't a man. That was a walker."

"He's dead already," the Chinese guy added.

"My father says they're not dead, like the rumors said, they're just really sick. Someone will find a cure and bring them back."

The woman looked at her companion before turning back to her. "We've dealt with these things for a couple of years now. They're dead. There ain't no cure."

"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree," Maggie said, not wishing to argue with a sword-wielding stranger.

"I'm Michonne. This is my friend, Glenn," Michonne said, offering her hand.

Maggie took it out of wary politeness. "Maggie."

"Maggie. We don't have much time so socialize. We've got a child in our group who was shot by a man. He's got a fever, infection is setting in. We need to look for antibiotics and painkillers."

"A child? How old?"

"Twelve," Michonne said. "He's my boyfriend's son."

Maggie bit her lip. Her father had told her not to give information away to strangers, but if a child was hurt she felt obligated to help.

"Where is he?"

"Why?" asked Glenn.

"My father is a veterinarian but he knows a lot about medicine and helping people. He could look at-"

"There's a church just past this big traffic snarl," Michonne said, wasting no time. "It's out in the woods."

"Mt. Zion? We used to attend church there. Well, Daddy did. I know exactly where it is. I can go home, get Dad, and we can run out to look at your boyfriend's son. Just…this isn't some trap, is it?"

Michonne shook her head vigorously. "I swear it's not. Please, tell your father what's happened. Carl is only twelve. He's in excruciating pain."

Maggie rummaged through the shelf and took two bottles and handed them to Michonne. "This is for the infection. Give him two lids when you get back to him. This is for pain. He may get a stomach ache from it if he don't eat with it, so give him something like soup or crackers if you have it. I'll get Daddy. We can be there in half an hour or so."

Maggie hurried out, jumped on her horse, and galloped away. Michonne looked at Glenn.

"You think she's telling the truth, or do you think she was afraid of us and she just wanted to get out of here?" asked Glenn.

Michonne started for the exit. "I don't know. We'll just have to see. At least we have something to treat Carl's infection and help him with his pain."

They hurried out to the car and started it up. Michonne prayed to God that Maggie was reliable, and that her father would come to take a look at Carl. His life literally depended on the kindness of these strangers.

* * *

_**Glenn and Michonne returned to the**_ church and hurried inside. Carl, as Michonne had feared, was in even worse shape than he'd been just in the ninety or so minutes she'd been gone on her run to the store. She hurried to the altar where Rick stood waiting.

"Did you get something for pain?" he asked.

Michonne nodded and took out the medicine. "Met a girl at the pharmacy. She says her father knows about medicine and can help Carl. She promised to get him and bring him here. She told me how to give this to him. He needs something to eat so the medicine doesn't get him sick."

Rick rushed out to the truck and returned with some stale crackers that he helped Carl eat. Michonne was in the middle of giving him a pill when she heard the thuds of horse hooves.

"People on horseback," Daryl said. "Three of them. A man and two women."

Glenn rushed to the window. He whooped happily when she saw Maggie. "She kept her word. She's here."

Rick wanted to weep with relief when an old man came into the church carrying a black bag.

"My name is Hershel Greene," he said, by way of introduction.

"Rick Grimes, this is my son, Carl. Can you save him?"

"I'm gonna try, Rick," Hershel said. "Step back, please, Patricia and I need to look him over."

Hershel stepped up next to Carl. His face was pale as the sheet he lay on. His eyes locked onto Hershel's.

"Your name is Carl, isn't it?"

Carl nodded. "Hurts…"

"I know. I'm gonna do what I can to help you, okay?"

Carl nodded.

"I'm gonna have to touch your wound, Carl. That's gonna hurt. You holler all you need to, okay? Dad, you come hold his hand. That'll help him out."

Rick went forward to hold onto Carl's hand. He did cry out when Hershel probed at the wound with a gloved hand. He spoke to Patricia in a low voice and she handed him instruments.

"He needs a blood transfusion," Hershel said. "You know his blood type?"

"A positive, same as mine," Rick said.

"That's excellent news. We don't have time to waste. We need to get him to my place so we can do the transfusion. We'll have to transport him on something stable. We don't want him moving too much."

The effort to move Carl went quickly enough. He only cried out a few times as he was hoisted onto a small board that Hershel had brought with him. They transported him to the RV but it took them almost twenty minutes to get through the traffic snarl and onto the road to the Greene family farm. The rest of the group trailed behind. Less than an hour later Carl was laid out on Hershel's bed and they got started on giving Carl a blood transfusion.

* * *

**A/N:** Taking a new twist on some events from season two.


	4. Smoke And Fire

_**Daryl sat on the front porch**_ of Hershel's house, waiting for any kind of news about Carl. He'd helped set up the tents, away from the house, and there was simply nothing left to do but wait. Carol approached and leaned on the railing across the gap for the steps, regarding him.

"I won't apologize for being angry, but I do apologize for saying I hate everyone," she said.

"You ain't gotta say sorry, Carol. Everybody knows why you said what you said. I'd be hollerin' and snappin' at everybody if I'd been through what you have. Some people would have even ate a bullet but you didn't. So you're grumpy. We get it."

She smiled wanly, appreciative of his support. It felt good not to be judged, regardless of how easy it would be to dismiss her and her pain. "Any word on Carl?"

Daryl shook his head."Not yet."

"I hope he pulls through. He's a good boy."

They shared a few more moments of silence. Daryl lit up a cigarette while Carol screwed up the courage to ask him the one question that had been on her mind since he showed up unexpectedly at her tent and saved her from getting raped.

"How did you know?"

Daryl didn't bother to pretend he didn't understand what she meant. "I saw how you looked when you came back from the woods that day. I decided I'd keep an eye out on your tent and see if Shane would make a move."

"You watched over Sophia and me? For three nights?" Carol asked, feeling emotion well up from deep inside. For once it was a good feeling, something positive, rather than hurt or anger.

Daryl shrugged, downplaying what he'd done. "I ain't gonna sit back and watch people get raped and not do anything. I figured he'd make another move and he didn't disappoint."

She'd been so used to being treated like shit by men in her life. First her stepfather, then her husband. Then Shane had raped her and she felt Rick had failed to see the evil that was in him and kicked him out of the camp. She'd given up hope there was such a thing as a decent man in the world. Then she realized there were good men, and one of them was sitting across from her, smoking a cigarette and embarrassed out of genuine modesty. She came over and checked the bandage on his arm and told him it would need changing or it would become infected.

"Thank you," Carol said thickly. "Thank you for what you did."

Again, Daryl shrugged. He had no idea what to say. Dealing with crying women was a problem he'd never mastered. He'd rather face a herd of slobbering walkers than an emotional woman any day of the week.

Carol saw Maggie Greene in the kitchen, washing dinner dishes with her sister, Beth.

"Maggie is interested in you."

"What?" Daryl said, suddenly embarrassed.

Carol found her first reason to smile in five days. "It's true. She can't take her eyes off you, Daryl."

"Naw," he dismissed with a snort.

"No, not 'naw'. You looked out for me, allow me to return the favor and give you some good advice with regards to women. Be nice to her."

"Nice?"

Carol nodded. "You can be kind of off-putting, always trying to keep people at a distance, but you need to stop doing that. Be nice to her. See where it leads. I think it'll lead to something good if you just open yourself up to the possibility. You're a good man, Daryl. You deserve a good woman, and Maggie's clearly a good woman."

Carol left to go to the camp area just as Maggie emerged from the house. He looked after Carol's retreating form and felt an irrational sense of having been slighted. He had looked out for her, and now here she was, running off and leaving him alone with a woman who, apparently, had her eyes on him, and he didn't have the first clue what to say. The idea of running along behind Carol actually seemed like a legitimate plan to Daryl at this point.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? The only experience he had with women involved hard drinking and, most time, the exchange of money for services rendered. Maggie wasn't a barhopping tramp. She was a decent young woman who looked like she'd gone to college and liked reading books that didn't have pictures. Here she came, striding out of her father's house holding a plate with a fat slice of chocolate cake and her eyes glued to him.

"Hi," Maggie said, grinning at him. "Your friend, the Chinese fellow, didn't want his cake. Said he was too full."

"He's Korean," Daryl corrected quietly.

Maggie shrugged. "Oh. Well, anyway, I think he was too busy eyeballing my little sister to pay attention to his portion of dessert so, it's your lucky night."

_Be nice to her…_

How, exactly, was he gonna do that? Daryl's instincts were to tell Maggie to keep her cake while he ran for the camp and didn't look back. Instead, his hand reached out of its own accord and took the treat she offered.

"Uh…thanks," he muttered.

"It's homemade with a little extra frosting. My sister, Beth, is really good with the sweets. Between you and me," she said, and she stepped forward until she was almost touching his knees with her legs, "I'm better at _being_ sweet than baking them."

Daryl realized she was flirting.

_Christ._

Unsure what to do, and with no idea how to respond, he shoveled a big bite into his mouth and chewed. Maggie found his shyness to be cute and chuckled before going back into the house.

_Good Lord_, Daryl thought. _The farmer's daughter just flirted with me. I'm so fucked_.

* * *

_**Michonne sat on the back porch**_ of the Greene farm, anxiously awaiting any news on how Carl was doing. She just wanted to go to his side and sit with him. So far she'd hung back, giving Rick all the time with him, but she wanted a few moments herself. She planned to talk to him, remind him of their fishing trips with Andrea in the quarry, of swimming, and taking hunting lessons with Daryl, and her teaching him how to properly hold a sword. She swiped at the tears spilling from her eyes and planned to remind him of all of their good times together and beg him to fight to survive so they could have more.

"You don't have to hide your tears," Rick said. He came onto the porch and sat next to her. "It's not weakness."

"I know," she said, wiping her eyes, but she remained quiet.

"Please don't close me out. Lori and I started doing that before the Turn. We never recovered from it."

"I'm scared for Carl. I keep thinking I should have done something about Shane," she finally admitted.

"Carl is gonna be okay. As to Shane, what could you have done?"

"I don't know, Rick. Kicked him out myself, maybe? Then he wouldn't have been in the camp to rape Carol. He wouldn't have shot that gun and almost killed Carl. The noise from those shots brought those walkers down on our camp."

"Those walkers got there just as Shane left," Rick reasoned. "You know what that tells me? They would have stumbled upon our camp that night anyway."

Rick put his arms around Michonne and pulled her close.

"Shane would have found another group, Michonne, and terrorized them. Or he may have hooked up with a gang of cutthroats and tried to come back for revenge. You can feel guilty all you want but it doesn't change the fact that what you're not responsible for his actions. The only one to blame for what happened to Carol and Carl is Shane. Not you, not me, _just_ Shane. If you keep up with this, blaming yourself, then you're letting him victimize you."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Hershel said. He'd come onto the porch but they hadn't heard him.

Rick started to stand but Hershel bid him to remain seated.

"Is Carl okay?"

"He's fine. He's doing very well. I have him a shot of morphine for pain. He'll rest comfortably through the night. His fever broke and I got him on a drip for antibiotics and fluids. The bullet fragment came out fine. He's sewn up. I predict he'll make a full recovery. I think he'll be back to walking around on his own in a week."

Rick and Michonne hugged one another tightly. "Oh, thank God, some good news."

"Listen, I've gathered enough from seeing your son wounded, hearing your people talk, and hearing your conversation, that you had some trouble with someone? He raped your friend, Carol, and shot your son as he made an escape from your camp, is that right?"

"Yes, but he's long gone," Rick said, trying to reassure Hershel. "He won't pose a threat to you or your family."

"That's good to know. May I ask what you did prior to this outbreak?"

"I was a Sheriff's Deputy in my home town. Michonne was a lawyer in Atlanta."

"So you two were a part of enforcing law, order, and justice. That's good to know," Hershel said.

Rick could understand Hershel's apprehension. He'd overcome the immediate threat to Carl's life and now he needed to know what kind of people he had at his house, around his daughters.

"I know you must be wary of strangers," Michonne said. "You have a family to protect. I assure you we're decent people."

"I'm a pretty good judge of character and I've no doubt you're good people," Hershel replied easily, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg casually over the other, but his brow furrowed and his lips had disappeared into a thin line as he contemplated how he would continue.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Greene?" asked Rick.

"I'm not here to talk to you just out of concern for my family, but for yours as well, Rick. I know you see this farm as a safe place so it wouldn't be right not to tell you of some trouble I've encountered recently."

"Okay," Rick said, settling in and giving Hershel his full attention.

"A few weeks back my wife and son fell sick with this plague. Maggie brought it to my attention that you and your group view these people as dead and incurable but I have a different opinion on that."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, Glenn told us about that."

"That's a discussion we can have at another time. A day or so after Annette and Sean fell ill three men came onto our farm, claiming to be survivors looking for help. They were part of a larger group and said they just wanted to know if there was a safe farm they could settle down on in the area and that they'd keep to themselves. Something about them didn't sit right with me so I was wary. I had my daughters stay in their rooms so the men didn't know they were here. Turned out to be a good decision. The men attempted to rob us. They also wanted to use Patricia in an unseemly way. Her husband, a good friend of mine named Otis, was killed when we told them to leave and a fight broke out. I killed two of the men but one of them got away. I fully expect he will return with people at any moment. That means this farm isn't as safe as you may have hoped."

Rick and Michonne exchanged a glance. She didn't need him to speak to know what he was asking of her with his gaze alone. He wanted to help this man and she did too. She nodded and Rick turned back to Hershel.

"You saved my son, Mr. Greene. If trouble shows up here I will fight beside you. I'll do all I can to keep your family and your property safe."

Hershel sighed in relief. "Thank you. It's good to know there are decent folks left in this world. It's so easy to do what's wrong in the interest of self-preservation in a situation like this. I'm glad to have found people who care about doing what's right. And from now on, Rick, you and your people can call me Hershel. No need to stand on formalities. Now, I'm going to go fix up a cot in my room so you two can stay close to your boy."

* * *

_**The next week was spent peacefully**_ on the farm, with Rick's people falling into a routine to help the Greene's with chores around the farm. Hershel's prediction that Carl would be up on his feet in a week proved true. He'd been right when he said children were resilient. Though Carl couldn't do any heavy lifting, and wouldn't be fit for travel for another couple of weeks, he was at least able to get up and stretch his legs, and his appetite had returned.

In that time, while Michonne had spent every day nursing Carl back to health, Rick spent time tending to the animals as well as helping Beth, Maggie, Patricia, Andrea, and Carol with target practice at a neighboring farm. Should walkers roam the area in a herd, they didn't want to draw them to the Greene property.

Beth, it turned out, was a natural shot, and she was quick to pick up on the pointers Glenn showed her. She had good aim and wasn't afraid to pull the trigger.

"You're a quick learner," he said, and then squeezed his eyes shut when he realized he'd said that already-twice. "Sorry. Said that already."

"That's okay," she said.

Beth smiled, touched by his shyness. She slicked a stray strand of hair behind her ears and regarded Glenn while he motioned her over to the fence. There, he showed her how to load a clip and then had her start on it.

"So, what did you do before the plague?"

He looked away from her, his eyes going to his feet while his face warmed with embarrassment. "I did odd jobs. Mostly I delivered pizzas and washed cars. I was working my way through business school."

"What kind of business did you want to go into?"

"I was a pretty hardcore gamer. I wanted to own my own gaming store and maybe an arcade."

"Sounds like fun," she said.

"All right, y'all. Let's wrap this up," Rick said.

Beth was sure he cut practice short not only to conserve ammo but to get back to Carl. She didn't blame him.

"What about you?" Glenn asked. He accepted the fully loaded Beretta Beth handed him and tucked it into the holster strapped to his hip. "What did you want to do?"

"I was going to be a teacher. No need for that now. No children to teach," Beth said, a little sadly.

"You never know," Glenn said, trying to cheer her. "Society is going to come back, slowly but surely, and when it does teachers will be needed."

Beth appreciated his effort to buoy her spirits. It made her like him even more, which was saying something considering she found him insanely attractive. He was so damned cute and boyish and charming. He also had a really nice mouth she found herself staring and wondering what it would be like to press her lips to.

"May I ask a personal question?" she inquired.

"Shoot."

"How old are you?"

"I'll be twenty-two in a month. You?"

"I'll be eighteen next week. You're not so much older than me," said Beth.

"Guess I'm not," Glenn agreed.

"I was thinking, maybe after dinner tonight, you and I could go for a walk around the duck pond? It's really pretty in the sunset."

Glenn nodded readily and then blushed at Andrea, who was grinning at them as she walked past and jumped into the bed of the truck. Glenn boosted Beth inside, and he took a moment to appreciate the round firmness of her bottom, until he caught Dale glaring at him from the passenger seat inside the truck.

* * *

_**Michonne was finishing with the job**_ of cutting celery stalks and dicing up the eggs she planned to put into a potato salad she'd almost finished with when Carl came into the kitchen, sweating and holding his side. He still did that on occasion, unconsciously, which proved he still needed some time to heal.

"We got anything to eat?"

"You just had lunch a couple of hours ago," Michonne reminded him.

"I'm starving, though."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Are you just _starving _to death?"

Catching on and enjoying the game, Carl put the back of his hand to his forehead and dramatically swooned, leaning against the table.

"I'm barely hanging on!"

"Okay, sit down. I'll make you a salad."

"Salad?" he said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "I'm struggling to survive here. I need sugar. I was thinking cookies are just the things to save me."

"Oh really? Cookies, huh?"

"I agree with the kid," Hershel said, entering the kitchen. He'd been watching them interact and he could see how much Michonne and the boy loved one another. Carl had told him that his mother had been killed by the sick people, but Michonne had been there to hold him when he'd cried at night, and to help him deal with her death. In Carl's words, she'd 'made it easier' for both him and his father to deal with losing Lori. He could see why Carl was fond of Michonne. She was a natural with him and would make a good mother to her own children someday, should she and Rick choose to have them.

"See! Mr. Greene- I mean, Hershel- knows what's good for me. He's my doctor so you should listen to him."

"Cookies will help put hair on the boy's chest."

Michonne feigned surprise. "Really? Well in that case I'll avoid eating them myself. I don't want hair growing on my chest."

"Neither would Dad," Carl joked, and Michonne swatted at him with a wet washcloth.

"You hush. You can have two cookies and half a glass of milk."

"Just two?" Carl said, disappointed.

"Yes. You're not spoiling your dinner."

Carl turned to Hershel, but the older man held up his hands. "Don't look at me. I did my duty getting her to agree to the idea."

"Hershel!"

Patricia ran through the house, hollering his name, and he turned to her in panic. "Patricia, what happened?"

"We've got trouble," she said. "I think that man who was with the men who killed Otis has returned. He's got backup, and they're on their way up the drive."

They'd prepared for this situation, should Rick and the others be away from the house and trouble came knocking.

"Carl, get downstairs and hide in the drier, just like we practiced," said Michonne.

"You should give me a gun. I can help fight."

"No, Carl. Downstairs, _now_," Michonne insisted. "Don't come out until one of us calls for you."

Carl heaved an exasperated sigh but did as ordered.

"Hershel, you and Patricia get your guns. I'll light the smoke signal," Michonne said, and rushed outside to the back yard.

Hershel and Patricia grabbed the shotguns from the living room. They had six shells each and he shook his head. "If I'd known the end of the world was coming, I'd have bought more ammo."

"I'll die, Hersh, before I let those men do to me what that Shane fellow did to Carol in her camp," Patricia vowed.

"I'll die before I let that happen, too," Hershel promised, and kissed Patricia on the forehead. "Now, help me get the table turned over."

Michonne came inside and helped put the dining room table down as a barrier. The table was eighty-five years old and made of solid oak. It was strong, and it was the best barrier they had against gunfire. Michonne took a place up beside the door, her katana at the ready to face whatever threat came through the front door.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm tweaking Beth and Glenn's ages here for shipping purposes. I always got the feeling Glenn was younger than Maggie by a few years, anyway, so I don't think I'm messing with things _too_ badly.


	5. The New King

_**Rick was lost in thought about**_ where he would lead his people next. The warm weather was cooling. Even though winters were mild in the south Rick didn't want his people, or his family, on the road avoiding herds and trying to find a way to stay warm at night that wouldn't involve activity that would draw walkers.

Hershel had a good setup. He had plenty of room but Rick figured he would still want them to move on, especially after Rick repaid his debt regarding Carl by getting rid of his problems with these raiders that were likely to return. Rick considered claiming the farm they used for target practice, but there was safety in numbers and adding Hershel and his family to their group would be a benefit. Besides, he could see relationships forming between Beth and Glenn, and Maggie and Daryl, that wouldn't be easy to break with them hitting the road.

Andrea's panicked banging on the cab window of the truck drew Rick from his thoughts.

"The smoke signal is lit, Rick," said Andrea.

Rick saw the column of black smoke rising into the air from Hershel's farm. Without hesitation, or warning, he stomped on the accelerator and the truck surged forward, nearly tumbling Beth, but Glenn caught her. He twisted the wheel and turned onto a side road that led to the back of the farm house.

_Carl…Michonne…_

The truck had barely come to a stop before everyone jumped from the back of the truck and began to make their way toward the farmhouse, their guns drawn.

* * *

_**Shane Walsh saw the truck that**_ sped along the side road. He recognized, even at a distance, three of the people who rode in the back: Glenn, Andrea, and Carol. It surprised him that they would be on this farm and he wondered why they'd left camp. His gaze returned to the farm house.

He'd have bet his right hand that Michonne was in that house.

He'd have answers as to what his old group was doing on this farm. For now, though, he would need to talk his new group out of this attack.

"Dave, we gotta go, man."

"It's just an old man and a woman, Walsh. If you're too much of a yella-bellied fairy to face-"

"They got back-up, man. They just came up the side road. I know those people. They're from my old group."

"The one that kicked you out?" said Louis. The little windows that opened in the center of the back window of the cab were open and the men in the bed of the truck could hear everything Shane and Dave said to one another.

Shane nodded. "That's the one. There's six of us here," Shane said, as the truck pulled to a stop in the front yard. "I saw at least seven in that truck, plus there'll be more inside the house. They'll be armed and I can guarantee you, they ain't afraid of pullin' the trigger."

The others looked to Dave. He'd been given this mission by their leader, a man who insisted on being called King George. One of his lieutenants had been killed on the first attack on this farm. Dave wanted to take his place and the only way to do that was to take the farm, secure it for George to claim as his new 'castle,' and capture the old man so George could have his revenge.

Shane had been willing to go along. He needed a group for survival, but he didn't plan to remain a foot soldier for long. George was well-hated by his group. Shane figured it wouldn't be too difficult to turn people to his side so he could take over and get rid of George once and for all.

"You wanna quit, Walsh?"

"No, Dave. I just don't wanna make your stupid mistakes, the same ones that got your other men killed. I was a cop, and one thing I learned on the job, and since the Turn, is that when the situation changes you have to change with it. You gotta adapt. Sometimes retreat is the only answer. You fall back, make better plans, and you live to fight another day."

"That sounds logical to me," said Louis. "We should turn around, Dave."

Dave considered it for all of two seconds, then climbed out of the truck. "We go in. We ain't gonna leave till this farm is ours."

Since Dave couldn't be reasoned with, and he had no intentions of getting killed because of another man's foolishness, Shane lifted his gun and put a bullet in Dave's chest. He staggered back, a look of shock on his face, before he collapsed. Shane climbed into the driver's seat and turned the truck around, then headed down the long dirt drive toward the road.

"Dude," Louis said, peering in at Shane from his place in the bed of the truck.

"Us taking them on with the firepower and numbers we got would be like storming a fucking fort with a slingshot," Shane said. "You wanna die for nothing, fine, jump out and go back."

Louis shook his head and gulped. "No, I don't wanna die, but...Shit!"

Shots rang out. Shane heard one of the men in back cry out, then another. He glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that Rick was in pursuit with an old man in the passenger seat. He had two men left alive in the back of the truck.

"Step on it, Walsh!" Louis cried out.

_Well, well_, Shane thought. _Looks like Rick finally grew a pair_.

The sound of another shot was followed by another falling body. Louis now lay down, covering himself under the bodies of their comrades. Shane whipped the truck onto the road and sped off. He looked back and saw Louis peering over the tailgate, his gun out, and Rick's truck skid to a stop. Louis had managed to take out one of their tires.

"Pull over, damn it!" Louis shouted.

Shane kept going, getting well out of range of Rick's guns. After Rick and his new friend were no longer in sight Shane stopped the truck and let Louis climb into the passenger seat.

"Roll up your window," said Louis.

"Why?"

"Don't you know, man?" Louis asked. "They're gonna rise."

Louis cranked his window closed and turned to look into the bed of the truck where three of their people lay dead.

"You gotta get bit or scratched to turn," Shane said, unconcerned while he continued on.

"No, man. Everybody who dies comes back. Just look."

Shane watched as one of their men sat up. Ben was his name. He'd been shot in the chest and now he lunged for the glass of the cab window. Shane cranked his window closed just in time to keep Ben from reaching around to get at him.

"Fuck!" Shane shouted. "They turn? That means…"

"Everybody's infected, yeah," said Louis. "Whatever makes these things, we all got it."

* * *

_**By the time Shane pulled into **_their camp all three men in back were up and trying to break through the glass. Louis suggested they wait for somebody in the camp to kill the men before they attempted getting out, but Shane climbed out and put an end to Ben and the others himself.

A girl named Regina approached. She was about fifteen, if Shane remembered correctly, and she was one of George's favorite women. If she could be called that, Shane thought, as young as she was. George had first taken her when she was thirteen, but now she was losing his favor since she was getting too old for his liking. She'd been coming onto Shane, sensing she'd need a new man to keep her safe from the other men in the camp. He wasn't interested. She was just too young for his tastes.

"King George wants Dave to come to his office. Looks like Dave ain't here," she said, peering into the blood soaked bed of the truck.

"I'll go see him."

"Musta been a bad fight," she said.

"Sure was," Shane answered.

He pulled the door shut in her face and then nodded at Bill and Warren, George's muscle.

"Hey, Walsh," said Warren. "I got my hands on a case of Bud. Why don't you stop by later and we'll crack a few open over a game of poker?"

Shane clapped Warren on the shoulder. "Sounds like a plan, man."

He nodded toward Bill and then went in to face George.

"Where's Dave?"

"Dave's dead. So are Ben, Casey, and Frank," Shane explained.

"Well, what the fuck happened?"

"Turns out there's more of them than we thought," Shane said. "People are there. People from my old camp. They killed Dave, then, when I called retreat, they-"

King George looked outraged. "You pussied out?"

"No, I made a tactical decision. Fall back, get more men, go back better prepared."

Even as Shane spoke, however, a sneer came over George's face and he waved his hand dismissively. George didn't like Shane, and Shane knew it. Shane's biggest sin was that he was not only obvious leadership material, and a former cop, but he was liked by their people in ways that George wasn't.

He'd been there less than two weeks and already he had the respect of practically everybody in the camp. Women loved him, men looked up to him, something George would never experience. George had already sent one assassin to get rid of Shane, but he'd lost that fight, and he'd lost it badly.

"You pussied out," George said again, with a bored sigh.

Shane kept his anger in check. "What would you have done, George?"

"That's _King _George, Walsh. I would have finished it."

"I doubt that," Shane said, earning a glare, but he pressed on. "We barely got out of there alive."

George was a coward and a fool. He was lazy, perverse, and disliked by his people, who only put up with him because they needed someone in a position of leadership. They needed to feel protected.

"You failed because you don't know how to finish what you start," George said.

Shane had reached his limit with the skinny, greasy moron who sat before him. He'd be damned if he'd stand there and allow the guy to belittle him.

"You know what, George? I don't think you have the balls to follow through on anything yourself. If you did, you would have been the one leading the attack on that farm. You'd have manned up and taken the lead."

George's face flushed and veins popped out like thick, crooked worms on his temples. He jumped up, stick thin and unimposing, and jabbed a finger in Shane's face. "You're done, Walsh. Guards!"

Bill and Warren stepped into the room. "Problem?" Bill asked.

"Take this piece of shit coward out front. Put him down. I'm gonna make an example of him, show people what happens when they cross me."

Shane held up his hands, halting Warren and Bill's approach, though they didn't exactly look keen to bring harm to Shane. Unlike with George they actually liked and respected Shane.

"I know you got a job to do, fellas, and I respect that, but hold up," Shane said. He looked back at George. "Why don't you do it, George?"

All three men regarded Shane.

"I know Bill and Warren have the balls to face me. Do you, _George_?" Shane asked, deliberately omitting George's desired title.

The guards looked at one another, chewing that idea over, before crossing their arms, interested to hear what Shane had to say.

"I mean, I've been here almost two weeks. All I've seen you do, George, is sit on your ass, bossin' people around, molestin' little girls and tellin' everybody they gotta call you 'king'. You ain't my king, you skinny little worthless cunt."

George pointed at Shane, his face a bright shade of red, "I said take him outside!"

"What'll you do if they don't?" Shane asked. He looked back and Warren and Bill, who were now smirking. "I mean, you gonna yell at them, too?"

Bill and Warren snickered. That's when Shane, and George too, knew it was over for the would be king.

"I'll tell you what, fellas. You'll never have to call me king. You'll never see me eyeballin' your twelve-year-old daughters, either, like this sick fuck."

"You sayin' you wanna take over?" Bill said.

"I'd do better by our people than this little shit," Shane pointed out, before turning to George. "You wanna be king, George, you gotta prove you deserve it."

George brought up a gun but Shane took hold of his little wisp of an arm and forced the gun up until the muzzle was under George's chin. Then he wrested the gun away, gripped George by the wrist, and hauled him toward the camp.

"Do something!" George shouted, but Warren and Bill kept their hands in their pockets.

"You're the king," said Bill. "You're supposedly such a badass. Save yourself."

Outside, the twenty people who made up their camp went about their daily business. Most of them were women, but a few were younger boys and men. They looked alarmed when they saw Shane manhandling George.

"Listen up, y'all!" Shane shouted. "We got us a regime change happenin' here. Unless, of course, George here has the stones to fight to keep his crown."

"You ungrateful shits! Do something!" George shouted.

Nobody moved. Most of them were too scared, and when they saw Warren and Bill not making an effort to defend George, they didn't dare either.

"Fight, George," said Shane.

George glared at Shane, but his bottom lip began to tremble. He looked around at his people. "I've taken care of y'all. I've made sure you're fed and safe-"

"Y'all did that for yourself. He just made sure you _thought_ you needed him," Shane countered. "Y'all've been protecting him, not the other way around. He's been using your little girls in the sack. Piece of shit. If a man ain't willing to stand up and fight for what's his then he don't deserve it. He said I was a pussy. Looks like he's the pussy in this group."

Shane leveled George's own gun at him.

"You gonna fight, pussy?"

George's lip continued trembling. His eyes continued searching the group for anyone who would come to his defense. Nobody did.

"That's what I thought."

Shane put the gun to George's head and pulled the trigger, putting an end to the man who would be king. He looked at the people gathered around him.

"I'm the new sheriff in town. I'll never mistreat you. I'll never keep the good shit for myself and throw y'all my sloppy seconds. I'll never touch your little girls. I'll always have your back. Y'all are gonna see. Life's about to get a whole lot better around here. Y'all with me?"

The people shared a glance at one another before shouting their approval. Shane figured they did so out of fear more than genuine joy, but he was going to make them love him. He was going to make them want to do anything for him. That way, when it came time to move on the farm again, they would willingly fight tooth and nail to take the place down.

Then he would kill Rick. Then he would take the women and children and add them to their numbers.

Then, he would finally have Michonne.

* * *

_**Carol was beside herself when Hershel**_ and Rick returned to the farmhouse with the truck hobbled on a flat tire. Michonne and Maggie sat on either side of her, trying to comfort her. There was a look of worry in Michonne's eyes and Carl looked pale.

"What's wrong?"

"She says Shane was driving the truck," said Michonne.

"No, that wasn't Shane," Rick said.

"It was!" Carol insisted.

"I think she's right, Rick," Michonne said. "He's shaved off his hair but I could have sworn it was him."

"He must have found these people pretty quickly after leaving our camp," said Dale.

"He probably spotted us when we came up the side road," Andrea added. "That's why he wanted to leave so quickly."

"He'll come back for Michonne. He'll kill our men and take the women," Daryl warned.

Carol whimpered fearfully at those words.

"God only knows how many people he has. We're not prepared for war," said Hershel.

"Everybody calm down, let me think," Rick ordered. He paced in front of the porch, trying to think of what was best to keep the group safe. Leave it to Shane to take up with a band of murderous thugs.

"I say we search him out. Let's scout the area and see if we can find his camp. We can watch them, see what kind of manpower and guns they've got," Glenn suggested.

"We can take search parties out tomorrow. It's too late in the evening for that now. We need to move our camp into the woods. That way we can keep an eye on the house."

"What good will that do?" Patricia asked.

"Shane may come back tonight with a bigger group, heavily armed, and we're not ready to face that. For tonight we need to be off the property but somewhere we can watch and see what he does."

"We won't be able to live in the woods forever," said Hershel, "and I'm not abandoning my home."

"Just for tonight. I know Shane. He'll come back immediately if he has the resources. If not he'll wait, bide his time, and come back when he does have what he needs to take us out in one attack. If he's not back tonight then we'll have some time to find supplies and fortify the house for a fight when it comes."

"Unless we can find him first," Glenn insisted.

Rick nodded. "Unless we find him first."

They quickly moved the tents from the camp in the side yard to the woods lining the Greene farm. Hershel had a couple of tents stored in the attic that he pulled out for himself, Patricia, Maggie, and Beth. He intended to share his tent with Glenn and Daryl while the other tents were divvied up between the others.

Daryl helped set up the tent Maggie would share with Patricia and Beth. Maggie was still trying to figure Daryl out. He seemed to both like and fear her attentions. He hardly ever spoke, and frankly, she was ready to give up.

"You got a sporting goods store in town?" Daryl asked.

_Well, he _can_ speak first_, Maggie thought.

"Sure do. It's called Farrell's. I know exactly where it is. It's probably been looted of anything useful, like ammo."

"I need some bolts for my crossbow," he explained. He finally found the courage to look her in the eye when he spoke. "Since we have to run into town to look for stuff anyway, I thought I'd look."

"I'll come with you, show you where it is," Maggie said. She stepped closer. For once, Daryl didn't back away.

"It's a date," she said, and then kissed him very softly, very close to his lips, and then went into the tent where her sister was waiting.

_A date._

Daryl had a happy, buoyant feeling in his chest as he went to his lookout post beside Hershel.

* * *

**A/N:** It was a nasty surprise for Shane to see his old group there. He doesn't know all the trouble he caused and that he damn near killed Carl. He's got a new group and he's slimy enough to trick them into thinking he's a good man. He's better than the selfish pedophile who was in charge before, but he's going to be nothing but bad news for those people.


	6. Resources

_**Beth and Maggie snuggled into their**_ tent and prepared to go to sleep. Because of the fourteen year gap in their ages they'd rarely gotten to discuss guys. At least not outside of Maggie offering Beth advice. Now, however they passed time talking about Glenn and Daryl.

"Glenn is so shy," said Beth. "He tries so hard to come off as suave and experienced when really, he isn't. He's so cute, though."

"You got anywhere with him, yet?" asked Maggie.

"I was hoping to at least kiss him when we went out to the duck pond but this whole thing happened with those attackers, so no. How about you and Daryl?"

"He's shyer than Glenn. I think he's interested but he has no idea what to do with a woman."

"Is he a virgin, you think?" Beth asked, intrigued.

"I really doubt _that_, but I think he's not really experienced in having any kind of relationships," said Maggie. "He and I are gonna go on a run into town for supplies. He needs bolts for his crossbow."

"That thing is so cool," Beth said. "Have him teach you to use it."

Maggie smiled. "Maybe. I just want to see how he is when I have him all to myself tomorrow."

"You think Dad spooked him?"

"Dad spooks all the guys who come around us," Maggie lamented. "I think once he and I are alone, we'll make some progress."

"Progress?" Beth laughed. "Is that what you're calling it these days?"

They dissolved into giggles until Patricia came in and they settled down. She marveled at how unconcerned Maggie and Beth were. They didn't realize, she knew, exactly what a man like Shane would do to them and the horrors that awaited them if they were captured. Still, she didn't say anything or admonish them. Life was tough enough as it was without trying to heap fear onto their backs.

* * *

"_**Michonne?"**_

Carol approached the fire where a pot of water for instant coffee boiled. Michonne glanced up. This was the first time Carol had approached her since that night at the church.

"Morning. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"No, thanks. All this stress has got me feeling queasy. I'm going to have to get back to the house, though. I've started spotting and my stomach is cramping."

"We'll probably get back today," Michonne speculated. "We'll have to bury that man Shane left dead in the front yard. I think I've got a couple of bags of ginger tea. That'll settle your stomach."

"Thanks."

Michonne dug into her bag and came out with the tea. She poured Carol a cup of hot water and then sat down, waiting quietly for Carol to say whatever it was she'd come to talk about.

"I wanted to say sorry for last week. Like I told Daryl, I'm not sorry for being angry. I have a right to be. I am sorry, though, for taking it out on you and the rest of the group. I should never have hit you. I hope you can forgive me."

"No forgiveness necessary," Michonne said. She squeezed Carol's knee. "I never faulted you, Carol. You've been through so much."

"Rick called off shooting practice. We're low on ammo. I feel like I've gotten a lot out of the practice, though. I've gotten pretty good with a gun. When Shane comes back, I hope I'm the one who gets to end him."

"Me too. If anybody deserves revenge, it's you. Carol…have you considered learning to use a sword?"

Carol smiled as she pictured herself hacking at walkers with a katana. "Me, with a sword?"

"Hey, don't laugh it off. Ammo is limited. Knowing how to use a sword would come in handy. Not just for you but for everyone in our group. Think about it."

Carol nodded, and then winced when she went to set her cup down. "I will."

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be all right. I'm just exhausted, even after eight hours of sleep. Also, my girls are sore."

Michonne knew that by 'girls' Carol meant her breasts. She motioned toward the tent Carol had slept in the night before with Andrea. "Go get another hour or two of sleep. I've got watch."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Carol squeezed Michonne's hand, grateful that she'd been willing to forgive and move on. "Thanks, Michonne, for everything."

"That's what friends are for, right?"

* * *

_**Rick, Glenn, and Hershel spent hours**_ wandering the area, looking for any sign of Shane's camp. Hershel led them to every place he could imagine a group may want to hole up in for shelter, only to find them empty.

"Where in hell could he be?" Rick wondered aloud. He was desperate to locate Shane and plan an offensive. He wanted the threat eliminated once and for all.

"I can think of only one last place he could be," said Hershel. "Drive up this dirt road. When you've gone about a quarter mile, take a left. We'll need to park and go the rest of the way on foot."

The road was on an incline, though not a very steep one. Rick drove up and then took the left Hershel pointed out. It was so overgrown with wild grass and weeds that Rick wouldn't have noticed it without it being pointed out. One encouraging clue was that the tire tracks in the soil leading into the side road looked fresh; an indication of recent activity. Rick parked the truck around a bend in the road to hide the truck should any of Shane's men return from an outing.

"There's an old abandoned school up here," said Hershel. "I attended classes here when I was a boy."

"Let me guess, you had to walk to and from every day?" Glenn joked.

Hershel would have been amused if the situation wasn't so serious. "Yes, actually, I did," he glowered, and Glenn caved.

They fell silent and continued walking. The road widened and they soon heard human activity. Rick led them into the trees beside the road, wishing mother nature would have helped them out with a rainstorm to cover sound and to darken the shadows in the trees, but the sky remained a pristine shade of blue uninterrupted by a single cloud.

Rick's gut clenched when he saw Shane walking through camp with two beefy men following after him. The school house was a very small, one story brick building with perhaps four classrooms on either side of a central hall. A dilapidated sign read _Peachtree Elementary, est. 1935_.

Carol and Michonne had been right when they said Shane had shaved off his hair. He was practically bald now.

"There he is. There's the son of a bitch who raped Carol and almost killed Carl," whispered Rick.

Hershel nodded. "He certainly looks dangerous."

"I count six able-bodied men, four women. The rest are kids," said Glenn.

"We don't know how many guns they got," Rick said.

"They hunkered down in the tall grass when a couple of kids raced by, chasing a ball, and laughing. Rick strained his ears, trying to listen in on Shane. He only caught snippets of conversation, but from what Rick gathered Shane wasn't happy with their manpower or their weapons. As they drew closer, however, it became easier to make out what Shane was saying.

"...and the truth is I don't want the farm," Shane said. He was easy to hear since he was moving in Rick's general direction, talking to the two big men with him.

Rick's hand tensed and rested on the revolver strapped to his hip. It would be easier to take Shane out now and leave. The people in the camp may possess the wit to realize they'd lost too many people moving against Hershel's farm and it just wasn't worth risking anymore of their people's lives. Or, they could be vengeful fools. Chances are they would prove to be the latter.

"We've done lost six men on two raids over there," said the bigger of the two men. "I say we live and let live. Hell, we didn't know nothing about that place until Dave came back talking about his buddies were killed."

"I agree," said the other man.

"They've got resources, but then so do we," said Shane. "My only thing is they've got something I want. Someone, I want, I should say. My woman."

Rick's stomach clenched again. He was referring to Michonne as his woman?

"The leader of that group, Rick, he kicked me out so he could keep me away from her. I understand if y'all don't want to waste blood on a personal vendetta of mine."

"We really don't," said the biggest man.

Shane nodded. "I just ask you don't stand in my way when the time comes for me to make my move. We'll add to our numbers as time goes on and we'll build up ammo. When we do, I'm going to take some men and I'm gonna get what's mine."

Shane and his men wandered away, still talking, but Rick didn't need to hear the rest. Shane wasn't going to move immediately. He was going to try to build up his numbers and come after them again.

That meant he would have to move against Shane first, take the man out and then give his people a choice-fight or leave them in peace. He figured they would opt for peace considering they didn't want any part of Shane's bad blood with Rick and the old group.

Rick nodded his head toward the road and they started off, slipping away as quickly and as quietly as they'd come. When they reached the truck, Rick coasted it downhill in neutral, waiting until they reached the road before turning the engine over to minimize the chances that anyone in Shane's camp would hear them leaving.

* * *

_**Daryl wasn't keen on horses but**_ they didn't need gasoline to run and they were a lot quieter than the rumbling engine of Daryl's bike. He and Maggie rode in complete silence. He wanted to converse with her but he didn't know what to say. He didn't like being around people with college degrees. They made him feel stupid.

"Here we are," said Maggie. She dismounted and Daryl got an eyeful of her firm, round ass as she did. She approached the front door of the sporting goods store and the door opened easily for her. "Unlocked. Lucky for us."

Once they were inside they looked over the mostly empty shelves.

"I was right. It's been looted," said Maggie.

"There's a lot of good, useful stuff left behind," Daryl countered. He grabbed a fishing rod and line, setting them on the counter. "Andrea will like this."

"Andrea huh? Figures," Maggie huffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daryl asked in confusion.

"Nothin'. None of my business."

"You pissed 'cause I wanna get a fishin' pole for Andrea?"

Maggie shrugged. "Of course not," she lied. The truth was she was a little peeved and damned if she could figure out any legitimate justification for it other than petty jealousy. It wasn't like Daryl was her man. Plus, Andrea had known him first.

Daryl shrugged and moved on back to look at a selection of knives. He saw a case and looked inside. He seemed to like what he saw because he decided to take it. She was about to make a comment about whether or not it was another gift for his precious Andrea when she saw movement in the shadows of the office.

"Daryl!"

Daryl spun around just as a walker lumbered from the office, its arms stretched out toward Daryl. He lowered the section of counter that had been left up and blocked the walker, who couldn't figure out a way to overcome the obstacle.

Maggie sighed in relief. "That's Mr. Farrell. Thanks for not killing him."

"You still think they're alive, huh?" Daryl asked.

"Yes, I do."

Daryl shrugged. He wasn't going to argue with the host who was giving him room and board. He found ten bolts for his crossbow and considered himself lucky. "Ok. Let's hit the pharmacy."

"Why?"

"Michonne gave me a list. I said I'd fill it if I could."

With their things secured to the horses they walked the animals over to the pharmacy.

"You don't do a lot of talking, huh?" said Maggie. She was still trying to figure Daryl out. She thought that if they were alone he'd open up more. That was turning out not to be the case.

"You want some highbrow conversation you need to hit Andrea or Glenn up. Dale, too. Hell, anybody in the group but me. I didn't graduate High School. All I got is a GED."

Maggie looked partially amused and partially offended. "Is that why you don't talk to me? You think I'm some snob? That ain't me at all, Daryl."

"I just don't talk a lot. I like my quiet. I prefer to listen."

"That's a sign of wisdom, you know. Listening instead of talking," Maggie said.

Daryl felt the knot in his belly at being alone with Maggie begin to lessen. She could accept he wasn't a talker. She also wasn't a snob. He hadn't really thought she would be, but it was good to hear her say it. He just wished he could fathom her dislike of Andrea.

The door of the pharmacy opened and let out an awful stench from the walker that Michonne had killed the week prior. Daryl let Maggie off the hook. She waited outside while he went in and got all the items on Michonne's list. There were no bags left so he had to carry everything lose in his arms until he could get to the saddle bag.

One of the boxes dropped from Daryl's arms and Maggie scooped it up. Shew as surprised at what it was. She handed it back to Daryl, who flushed. They were halfway back to the farm when Maggie asked the question that had been on her mind since she'd picked up the box.

"Those condoms also for you and Andrea?"

Finally Maggie's attitude regarding Andrea made sense. She was jealous. Daryl was surprised by how much he liked that.

"Is that what you think?"

"Well?" she pressed.

"I'm not boning Andrea," he said.

A saucy grin suddenly pulled at Maggie's lips. "Good. You can bone me instead."

"What?" Daryl asked in surprise."You don't mean now."

Maggie stopped her horse and dismounted. "Yes, now. Come on," she said, pointing to a stand of trees beside the road.

"I got those for Rick and Michonne," Daryl told her.

"They won't mind sharing."

Her open smile was tempting but Daryl didn't dismount. Maggie sighed. "Don't you like me?"

"Yeah, I like you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"You're just…"

"Moving too fast?"

Daryl nodded.

"Daryl, it's the end of the world. Your psycho ex group member may come to rape and pillage at the farm at literally any second. It's not like we have all the time in the world."

"That's why you wanna screw me? Cause you feel like time is short?"

"No. I also don't want to be alone anymore and I don't think you do either. I wanna bone you because I like you and you're sexy."

Daryl snorted at that last.

"I mean it. You are. Come on," she coaxed. "There's plenty of privacy in that shack there."

Daryl noticed the shack for the first time. "Lot's of rusty nails, more like it."

"We'll be really careful."

She suddenly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a bra that hooked in the front. She unsnapped it and pulled it aside, revealing large, firm breasts. He felt a stirring in his groin that undid his resolve.

"Fuck," he said, and dismounted. He didn't want to be alone anymore either.

* * *

_**Daryl was right about the inside**_ of the shack having lots of rusty nails. The table they found, however, was dusty but free of sharp objects. Maggie threw herself into his arms and kissed him deeply. He turned her around and reached up to massage her breasts. She sighed as he rolled her hardened nipples gently with his fingers. He slipped a hand down her jeans, which she'd already started to unfasten, and rubbed at her moistened curls.

"Daryl…yeah…"

Her hand came behind her to rub at his hardened length. His fingers slipped into her moistened folds and massaged tight nub of her clit, making her moan under his lips.

Daryl picked Maggie up and set her on the table. He was glad it was stable and didn't rock under her weight. He quickly undid his jeans while she ripped open a condom and then rolled it over him.

"I wanna taste you," he said.

"Next time. This is what I need right now," she said, and cupped his balls in her hand. His lips found hers as he pulled her to the edge of the table. Maggie wrapped her strong thighs around Daryl's waist while he positioned himself at her entrance. He slid in slowly, giving her body time to adjust to him.

"You're so thick," she said, and breathed out, relaxing, as she took him into her body, inch by inch.

He began to move, slowly, as he felt her body clench tightly around him. Her face told a story that said she was still adjusting. It had, he could tell, been a very long time for her, and the feel of her slick tightness was quickly undoing him. He didn't want to come too soon but the feel of her body gripping him was driving him over the edge. He stopped moving and ran his hands languidly over her breasts, over her belly, and then he began to thumb her clit. He could feel her body open to him as she sighed and he moved once again.

Daryl rocked his hips, his movements faster and also increasingly erratic as he felt her moisten with each thrust. Her whimpers elongated into moans. He gripped her legs, willing himself to hold out. When Maggie came he began to thrust hard, and fast, until he found release. He leaned over her when it was over, trying to keep his legs from giving out.

"They'll definitely have to share those condoms," Maggie said, smiling, when Daryl stood up and withdrew from her.

"Nah. I got three boxes," he said, making her laugh. For the first time in a long time, Daryl found himself chuckling too.

* * *

_**Rick moved them back to the **_farm as soon as he, Hershel, and Glenn returned from their scouting trip. They sat around the dining room table and discussed what they'd overheard.

"Any chance he knew you were there and was putting on an act?" asked Daryl.

"I can assure you, Dale, if Shane knew we were there, we'd be dead and he'd be raiding the farm right now," said Rick.

"This buys us some time," said Andrea. "We can build up ammunition-"

"Or we could go on the offensive," Michonne interrupted. "You thinking what I'm thinking? We go in there and take him out. We give the rest of the group the chance to pack up and leave."

Rick nodded. That's what he loved about Michonne. They were always on the same page.

"There are women and children in that camp," Hershel said.

"We make it clear that all we want is Shane," Rick said.

"How did he become leader so damn quickly?" asked Glenn.

"Other guy must have been a real bastard," Rick reasoned. "Shane's also charming. He can fool people into believing he's the good guy. You don't know till it's too late what a snake in the grass he is."

He was speaking more from his own experience than anything else, but it was no less true.

"We'll work out a plan. We'll need to move within three days," said Rick. "Three days, and we take that son of a bitch out."

Daryl found Michonne after the meeting and handed her the items she'd asked for. Michonne noticed the box of open condoms. Daryl snatched it up while she smirked at him.

"You and Maggie, huh?"

Daryl shrugged.

"You two make a nice couple," Michonne said. She was surprised when Daryl took the second of the three boxes. "Really? Planning a long weekend?"

"These are for Glenn. Better they're safe than sorry," said Daryl, and headed off to find Glenn, who was rummaging in the refrigerator for potato salad.

* * *

**A/N**: I've posted chapter seven, too, so you can keep reading! :D


	7. The Element of Surprise

"_**Do you know it's been a**_ week since you and I had some time to be truly alone?"

Michonne was leaning against a tree in the back yard of Hershel's house when Rick came out carrying a mug of steaming coffee. She accepted the mug and then moved so Rick could slip in behind her. She breathed deep, realizing the coffee was brewed not instant, and took a sip. She sighed-it was good to have a cup of fresh coffee.

"It's been eight days, technically. Not that I'm counting," Michonne said, before snuggling back against Rick. The mug was nice and hot and it warmed her hands.

"Of course not."

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you," Michonne said softly. She and Rick looked at the sky. Without artificial light from the city it was easy to see the sky was dusted with glittering points of light.

"That sounded poetic."

"It's the words to a song I used to love. Yellow, by Coldplay," Michonne explained. "I used to drive my roommate crazy with it."

He rubbed her shoulders. The evening was nippy but he began to warm nicely with her pressed against him. He felt like he'd been neglecting her in the interest of earning his keep on the farm.

"Feel like fooling around?"

"If you do," she said.

"I'd like to but honestly, I'm really tired."

Michonne chuckled, set the mug down, and then turned enough to gaze up at him. "Me too."

"Baby, I think age is creeping up on us," Rick mused.

"I don't mind as long as I'm growing old with you."

Rick regarded her seriously. "Really?"

"Of course," she answered, but she wondered if she was about to say something to scare him off. "Unless you don't want-"

"No, I do. I just wasn't sure how serious you were about this. About us. I mean…I'm gonna shut up before I totally screw this moment up."

"You're so cute when you stutter about your feelings," Michonne joked, and kissed him on the cheek.

"I want you to marry me someday," he said.

Now Michonne found herself staring at him. She loved Rick, and she knew he cared for her, but she hadn't realized the depth of his feeling for her until now. He could be so closed off at times, and he, like a lot of men, wasn't keen on sharing his feelings. Neither was she, to be honest, which explained why they were both so oblivious as to how deeply their feelings truly ran for one another.

"What?" he asked, feeling the pressure of her gaze.

"Yes," she said, simply, which brought a smile to Rick's face. "How do you think Carl will feel about it?"

"I think he'll accept it. He loves you."

"As crazy as Carl is about me, he may not be ready for you to have a new wife."

"We'll talk to him together. I know it'll be fine. I'm also gonna ask Hershel to officiate. I mean, legalities don't mean anything anymore, only that we exchange vows in front of our friends and family."

Michonne's hand found its way to Rick's crotch where she firmly massaged him. She felt him harden against her palm.

"You sure you don't feel like fooling around? Cause this marriage proposal has me feeling frisky," she said in a husky voice.

"I feel like it now," said Rick. He stood up, took Michonne's hand, and led her deeper into the privacy of the trees a few feet away.

* * *

_**It wasn't unusual for the Greene**_ family to be awake long before dawn. Farm life often necessitated being up even before the rooster crowed. Beth, Maggie, Hershel, and Patricia were wide awake out of habit, while Rick and his group were awake mostly from the adrenaline in their veins.

"Have they decided who is going on this mission?" asked Beth.

"Everybody but you, Patricia, and Carl," said Glenn. "I also don't think Maggie is going."

"Why ain't I?" Maggie asked, coming in from the kitchen with an old percolator carafe full of hot, strong coffee. Not that anyone really needed it, but it would be good to have something hot on a cool morning.

"Ask Hershel," Glenn said. "He and Rick are the ones making the decisions. I don't have a say in the matter."

"I'll do that. Thanks," Maggie said tightly. She wasn't short with Glenn. She was short with her father who was still trying to baby her even though she was in her early thirties. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Daryl and Rick have him outside talking about something," said Beth.

Maggie pushed through the screen door and found her father talking with Rick and Daryl on the front porch. They were looking at a man who was tied by the neck to the railing.

"Isn't that the guy Shane shot and left in our front lawn?" Maggie said. "How is he up on his feet? He took a bullet to his chest!"

She got a proper look at her father's face for the first time. She saw he looked pale and sick, even unsteady. His eyes were wet and red, though no tears fell.

"Daddy? What's wrong?"

"This man is dead," Hershel said quietly.

"He's not dead, he's just sick. You said so yourself."

"If he's not dead, how is he up on his feet with a gunshot wound to his chest?" said Hershel.

Rick and Daryl looked at Maggie with a mixture of sadness and pity.

"Well…I don't know. You said-"

"I know what I said, Sweetheart. I was wrong," Hershel admitted.

Maggie tried to take in what he was saying, but her mind refused to accept the evidence before her eyes. "He's sick. One of the sick people must have come by and bit him and…"

"If he was just sick, could he survive this?" asked Daryl.

He took out his knife, approached the man, and began stabbing him over and over in the stomach.

"Stop it! Oh, God, you've killed him!"

"Then why ain't he dropped? Why is he still comin' after me?" asked Daryl.

Maggie stared at the man. He continued growling and snapping and reaching for Daryl, who stayed just out of his reach.

"But Daddy…if these people are dead and not sick then Sean and Annette…"

"I know," said Hershel. This time tears did fall. He wiped them away and took a shaky breath. "I know."

Maggie looked back inside, where she saw Beth and Glenn loading clips with bullets. Beth was smiling at Glenn, talking, with no idea that her mother was dead.

"What do we tell Beth?"

"We don't tell her anything until this thing with Shane is over," Hershel said.

He went into the house, as did Rick, leaving Maggie and Daryl alone.

"Michonne stabbed one of those, what did you call them? Walkers? She stabbed one in the head the day she found me in the pharmacy. Is that the only way to kill them?"

Daryl nodded. "You gotta damage the brain."

He brought his knife down on the man's head. He fell to the ground and didn't get up again. Daryl wiped the blade clean and then sheathed it. He came to Maggie, stopping one step down so they were eye-to-eye.

"I'm sorry."

"You tried to tell me. You all tried to tell me but I didn't want to believe."

Maggie took a deep breath when Daryl wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back and looked into his eyes. "I was all set to be angry that Daddy didn't want me to come with you all. I'm a good shot. I'd be useful."

"I don't want you to come along either," Daryl confessed. "I don't want you in danger. Besides, your sister and the others will need a good shot to look out for them while we're gone."

"I don't want you to go but I know you have to," she said, and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. "I really like you, Daryl Dixon. Be careful 'cause I want you to come back."

"I will."

Inside, Hershel watched Maggie kiss Daryl and he looked to Michonne. "When did that start?"

Michonne shrugged and then lied. "I don't know. You upset by it?"

"Maggie's old enough to make up her own mind about who she dates but I don't know Daryl. Also, I don't know the Korean boy, and my baby girl has her eyes set on him." Hershel heaved a sigh. "I sometimes wish my little girls would manage to stay my little girls."

"I can personally vouch for Daryl and Glenn," Michonne told him. "Both are good, honorable men."

"That's good to know but I'll have to make those decisions for myself," said Hershel.

Michonne nodded. "Understood."

Rick made certain Maggie, Beth, Patricia, and Carl were armed before they took their guns and piled into the bed of Hershel's truck. They waved goodbye to Maggie and the others and then sped off into the predawn darkness.

* * *

_**The element of surprise wasn't just**_ on Rick's side as he drove the truck at high speed into Shane's camp, it was also on Shane's. He wasn't there. None of them were there.

"What the hell?" Daryl asked as he jumped down from the truck and searched the area. There were tents and dead campfires, pots, pans, and clothes strewn around, but there wasn't a soul in sight that Glenn, and Hershel had seen just the day before.

"Could they be in the trees, waiting to pick us off?" asked Dale.

"Wouldn't they be firing on us now?" asked Andrea. "They're gone."

"You know Shane but he knows you, too," said Carol. "He must have known you'd search him out and come for him. He took his people and left."

"No, no, no…"

Rick boldly went to the door of the school and opened it. Almost at once a walker rushed out, her chest savaged with gunshot wounds. Rick kicked her back inside and slammed the door shut. Other walkers crowded the door, pounding, drooling, trying to get out at Rick.

"I recognize her," said Glenn, startling Rick by appearing unexpectedly at his side. "I saw her the day before. She can't be more then fifteen years old."

"Oh, God," Carol said. Rick looked to where she pointed. In the window of the school was a child walker, no more than seven years of age. He'd been a little boy, one of the kids Rick had seen chasing a ball the day before.

"What happened here?" asked Hershel. "My God, did that man kill all of these people?" asked Hershel.

"He couldn't have," said Daryl. "Not kids and girls. He would kill them."

"There was a time I would have sworn Shane couldn't rape a woman either. Now there's nothing I'd put past him. Unless he's in there with the others then I wager he's behind this."

"There's one of his bodyguards," said Hershel, pointing to one of the burly men that was trying to break through the door.

"We can't leave them in there. They're a threat," Michonne said. "Innocent people can get hurt if they manage to escape."

"We let them out a few at a time," Rick said.

Michonne readied her sword. "You and Glenn let them out. I'll cut them down. Carol, Andrea, if any get past me, you shoot them."

Rick and Glenn manned the doors, allowing a few out at a time. None of them got past Michonne, not a shot was fired.

Shane wasn't among the walkers that Michonne had to cut down. That could mean only one thing: He'd murdered these people and now he was out there on the loose.

* * *

_**Shane Walsh lay staring up at **_the stars, thinking about the blood he'd spilled the night before. He'd stood outside the room Bill and Warren used for their poker games, listening in on their conversation. It was a storage room for supplies, which were running dangerously low. They'd spoken in low voices, but with the door cracked Shane could still hear their conversation.

"He's unstable," Warren said. "I can see it."

"Yeah, but he had a point about George not being in charge if he couldn't fight for it. The guy was a creep."

"Yeah, and so is Shane. I mean, did you hear what he said? He wants to go to this guy's farm, kill the old man and take the women. You know what men who want to treat women like property do with them? That's why you and I didn't go on the rape raids with Dave, Nick, and Leon. We ain't like that."

"What makes you think Shane is?"

"The way he talks about that Michonne woman. Like she's a dog he owns or something. He got kicked out of his old camp for a reason, Bill. I thought he was all right until he started talking about going in there and murdering everyone. I mean, think about it, Bill. He comes in here and after only two weeks with us he kills our leader and then expects absolute loyalty from us? He expects us to go off and throw our lives away on a suicide mission so he can kidnap some chick he's hot for? Fuck that shit."

"So what are we gonna do? We kick him out he'll just come back at us."

"I can take him," Warren said.

"And then what?"

"I take over. You can take charge with me. We'll move on from here and forget that Hershel fella and the man that's dating the woman Shane's got a hard-on for. Let them and their people live in peace. I'd bet my left nut they'd leave us alone if they didn't see us as a threat. We'll be doing them a favor if we off Shane," Warren reasoned.

Shane's blood boiled. Once again in his life people he should have been able to trust had turned against him. Lori had chosen to stay with Rick rather than be with him. Michonne had come along and, like Lori before her, she'd chosen Rick over him. Now these assholes had turned on him and plotted his death.

Shane lost it. He truly lost complete control over himself. He'd kicked the door open and stormed in. Warren was faster than he looked. He managed to pull a knife from his boot and jam it into Shane's side. Shane put a bullet in the man's chest, then put one in Bill's before leaving them both to die and turn.

That should have been the end of it but Shane couldn't stop. The rage he was in was the worst he'd ever experienced in his life, and he'd known a few in his time. He'd walked out of the abandoned school and began shooting. Every face was that of a traitor, in his mind. He didn't trust a single one of them not to plot against him and try to kill him in his sleep. After all, George had sent one assassin in the night, and he'd just overheard Bill and Warren plotting to kill him and take over, so why should he trust these people not to do the same?

The children had to die, too. Their mothers were dead. There was no one to care for them. He would allow them all to turn. That way he hadn't fully killed all of them. After that, he'd hung up part of a dead carcass inside the building to lure them in before shutting the door behind them.

He was alone again. When it came right down to it, all Shane wanted was to be loved. All he wanted was to have someone in his life that he could trust. Was that really too much to ask for? It seemed so, since the Fates deemed him unworthy of it.

Shane saw himself as a strong man. He was beating this world. Couldn't Michonne fucking see that? He was stronger than anyone he met, anyone he knew, especially Rick. He was the better choice, yet time and again women went for Rick over him. Hell, even this new group had plotted to betray him in favor of Rick, and they'd never even _met_ the motherfucker.

He wasn't going to stand for it. Not anymore. To hell with Michonne. He finished sewing up his wound, cleaned it with rubbing alcohol, rubbed some antibiotic ointment on it, and then bandaged it. All the while he saw Michonne's face in his mind. To hell with that bitch. If she wanted Rick, she could have Rick. She could also die with him. He was going to gather an army of his own. He would, someday, return to face Rick. When he did, he was going to kill everyone on that farm. No one would walk away.

* * *

_**Two Weeks Later.**_

Michonne heard retching in the bathroom and she knew she would find Carol inside.

Hershel had invited Rick and the rest of his group to live in the house until they could finish fixing up the neighboring farm for his group. Nights were cold in mid-November, and the farm house Rick and the others hoped to move into needed work on the grounds and in the house. Besides, Rick wanted to remain close to Hershel's property should trouble start up, while Daryl and Glenn wanted to remain to be with Maggie and Beth.

"Carol?"

Michonne opened the door while Carol finished retching into the toilet. She flushed and then sat back, leaning against the bathtub. She was pale and shaky.

"I'm okay. I'm just stressed."

"I don't think this is just stress, Carol. I don't think you do either."

Tears spilled down Carol's face. She shook her head. "I'm not."

Michonne scavenged under the sink and pulled out the box she'd asked Daryl to get on his trip to town two weeks previously. She handed it to Carol, who closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I'm not, Michonne."

"Have you peed this morning?"

Carol shook her head no.

"Now is the perfect time."

"Stay."

Michonne nodded and opened the box and sat on the edge of the tub. Carol took the stick Michonne handed her and before squatting over the toilet and peeing on it. They waited the required time and then Carol, with shaking hands, looked down at the display. Michonne knew the answer by her reaction alone.

"Oh, God no. I'm pregnant!"


	8. Don't Look Back

**A/N: **The epilogue has been posted. The story is finished. I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

_**Six Months Later**_

Hershel sat on the front porch with his corn pipe and listened as Patricia played the guitar and Beth sang some of his favorite old spirituals. His belly was full from a delicious dinner of grilled trout that Andrea had fished from a nearby fishing hole, and that had been followed by a lemon birthday cake Beth had made for his birthday.

Life was good. Spring had come and they were planting crops that could be canned to last them throughout the winter and into the next year. They would have food. The only thing that would have made the evening better was if his wife, Annette, and his son Sean, were there to celebrate. Even after six months he, Beth, and Maggie were still trying to adjust to the knowledge there was no cure and their beloved family was gone from them forever. Hershel decided that later that night, before going to bed, he'd put some flowers on their graves.

Carl stood at the edge of the porch with Michonne and his father. They'd spoken to him the previous November about marriage and he hadn't been entirely comfortable with it at first. Over time, however, he'd warmed quite nicely to the idea. As long as his father wasn't trying to replace his mother in his heart completely, he was okay with having a stepmother.

Now Michonne had a tape measure out and was measuring him for a suit that Patricia was going to help sew for the wedding. The gown was coming along nicely but Carl was hard to pin down. He'd hit a growth spurt and was shooting up like a weed, forcing the trousers to have to be restarted and lengthened again and again.

"Let's just wait until he's twenty-one and quits growing," Michonne said, exasperated. "He's quarter of an inch taller than last time we measured him."

"It's not like I can control it. I'm not growing taller on purpose," Carl complained.

Rick snorted with amusement. "You're voice is still trying to change. You keep squeaking."

"Dad!" Carl said with a glare.

Hershel found himself smiling as he refilled his pipe and watched Maggie reclining against Daryl. He had a feeling they'd be making a wedding dress for her soon enough. The two were inseparable and Maggie spent more evenings on the farm with him than she did at home. Beth was also picking up that habit, and Hershel just decided it would be easier for everyone involved if he accepted his little girls were in love and he couldn't make them stay ten years old forever.

"Hey! Hey!"

Beth stopped singing as Dale came running from the lookout post. He was waving his arms and Rick stood up with a sinking feeling. He rushed down the steps as Daryl stood with Maggie.

"Truck coming!" Dale said. "It's Shane."

"Oh, no," Beth said fearfully.

"It'll be okay," Glenn said, from his place beside her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. "We've planned for this. We'll make it through. I'll die before I let anybody hurt you."

"Come on, Beth. Let's get to our places," Maggie said.

She, Patricia, and Andrea went inside. Andrea and Maggie had posts on the second floor, where the windows had been boarded up, and reinforced, with metal plates. Gun ports had been welded out of them, offering as much protection as possible. Beth and Patricia had the job of giving Andrea and Maggie ammo when needed, or to take over should one of them be shot. Rick and the others went into the house and took up places behind the reinforced windows with the ports, also ready to fight. The house and grounds were quiet when Shane's truck rolled up.

He stood in the back of an armored truck with a gun mount on the back. A metal wedge that looked something like a snowplow was mounted on the front, which made it perfect for ramming. Two other men stood with him, and there were two more in the front. The men looked like stereotypical cutthroats. They were big, muscular, and bearded. They looked like they thrived on violence rather than shied away from it. There was an eagerness in their smiles as they prepared for the fight.

"Rick! I came to have a word with you. Michonne, too. Come on out. I promise I won't fire a shot."

Rick looked over at Michonne and nodded.

"You can't be serious," said Daryl, reading him. "You're not gonna go out there."

"I'll go on the porch," said Rick. "Cover me. Michonne, you st-"

"If you tell me to stay here I'm going to laugh in your face before going out first," she said.

Rick sighed. He'd sooner move a mountain with his little finger than change her mind.

"Let's go. Be ready to come back in if they start shooting."

"Don't you mean _when_ they start?" said Glenn.

* * *

_**Shane took one look at Michonne**_ and his resolve began to crumble. He'd come to wipe Rick and his people out. Seeing her, however, brought back old feelings he thought his rage had burned out.

He wasn't completely without honor, however. He was willing to leave the women in peace, and even let the old man live, if Rick would give himself up.

"I can't imagine we've got a whole lot left to say, Shane," Rick said, standing on the porch with Michonne beside him.

"No, man, we don't. We're heavily armed. We've got ammo," he said.

"Same here," Michonne said. "You think we haven't prepared for this?"

"We can have a battle. We can tear this house down with bullets, plow through it with the truck, and kill everyone inside, or, and this is the important part, you can give yourself up, Rick."

Rick and Michonne exchanged glances. "I should trust your word why, exactly?"

Shane jumped down from the truck and came to stand in front of it. "We were friends once. I'm willing to spare the ones you love in memory of that friendship."

"Hmmm…" Rick made a sarcastic show of thinking Shane's offer over. He knew it was bullshit. Shane was nothing if he wasn't a liar. "Considering all you did at the camp the night you left, I think I'll pass. Our friendship is long over and I vowed that when I saw you again, I was gonna kill you, our history be damned."

"What do you mean all I did that night?"

"Your gunshots drew walkers down on us. Carol lost Sophia. Jim and Jacqui were bitten. You shot Carl. You_ shot my son_, Shane, and he damn near died."

Shane took in a deep breath at this news. He'd never had anything against Carl. In fact, he'd seen so much of his mother in him that he'd always had a soft spot for the boy.

"He pulled through?"

"Yes, but barely."

"None of that matters now, Rick. If you won't give up, then we'll just have to start shooting."

"Or we could do this another way. You and I can have it out man to man. I win, you leave us in peace. You win, I come with you."

"I win and you…" Shane's voice trailed off. It took Rick a moment to realize Carol had emerged from the house and now stood by Rick's side. "Fuck," he whispered, when his eyes saw Carol's swollen belly.

"Carol, get back inside," Rick said.

"No. I'm staying for this. I want to face him. I'm never running from him again."

* * *

_**Shane felt as though the**_ _**rug**_ had been pulled out from under his feet when he saw Carol emerge from the house. She was pregnant. His baby was right there, less than forty feet away from him, growing inside her womb.

_His_ baby.

His eyes went to Carol's. There was so much hate there that it felt like a physical burn to his flesh. He couldn't blame her. If he was a woman who'd been raped he'd be just as bitter. She would never love him, he knew that, but the baby she carried…that would be his. He could raise the child, using Carol to breastfeed it until it could eat solid foods. Then he could set Carol free with some supplies and give her a fighting chance on her own.

"Change of plans," he told his men, and Rick. "I'll make you a deal, Rick. You give me Carol and my baby, and I'll leave, never to return."

"What?" Rick said, a look of astonishment on his face.

"That's my baby she's carrying. Look, Rick, I know you were always into the women's liberation bullshit, talking about equality and all that. That shit was fine before the world went to hell. There's a reason why men were in charge from the dawn of time-we're stronger. It's on us to protect and provide for our women and children. Carol's pregnant with my baby. As far as I'm concerned that makes her mine."

Rick's astonishment only continued. It would have been amusing were Shane not deathly serious.

"She's not yours, Shane. You _raped_ her," Rick shouted. "You forced yourself-"

"I know what I did, Rick! I don't need you to stand there and repeat it," Shane said, annoyed. "It's Carol and my baby or all-out war."

"War," Rick said, without hesitation.

"Really? You're gonna risk your woman and your son to keep me from mine?" Shane said, shaking his head.

"I'm not yours," Carol said. "This baby will never be yours."

"We'll see about that," Shane said, going back to his men. "Don't hit the pregnant woman. You do, I'll personally end you. Fire!"

Carol jumped in front of Rick and Michonne, forcing Shane's men to stand down. She backed into the house with them and slammed the door. From inside the house Andrea opened fire from upstairs, taking one of Shane's men out. The remainder of them fired back on the house. The bullets from Rick's people bounced uselessly off the truck. He ordered them to stop wasting ammo and wait for a clear shot.

The driver of the truck gunned the engine and sped toward the house. The truck busted up the porch and almost made it through the front door. The impact busted the front windows of the house out, causing glass to fall like knives onto the porch. Inside, Hershel got a clear shot at one of Shane's men and managed to put a bullet through his shoulder. The man fired back, nearly taking Hershel's head off.

"Carol!" Shane shouted. "I know you hear me! Come with me now. End all this! When the baby is weaned I'll let you go. You probably don't want any child of mine. I'll raise it for you! _Carol_!"

Inside Carol hunched down on the floor, listening to Shane hollering and feeling the baby react to the noise and distress by kicking hard inside of her. For the first time since she realized she was pregnant she felt a rush of maternal protectiveness for the baby. She'd spent the entire pregnancy angry and unattached to it, dreading its birth, dreading having to look at it and be reminded of its horrible conception.

Now that bullets were flying and she realized the baby could die, now that she felt its distress in its frantic kicks, she felt the first stirrings of affection for it. Shane wanted the baby. She could very well birth it, feed it until it was weaned, and then die at Shane's hand. She doubted he'd actually release her. He'd kill her out of spite.

Then she could go to be with Sophia. She loathed that she was too cowardly to take herself out. She could let Shane do it.

_He'd just keep you, rape you again and again, force you to have another baby_, she thought. _After all, he now considers you to be his woman_. It isn't the baby's fault. It didn't ask to be created the way it was. She had told herself that same thing, it seemed, a million times, but this was the first time it meant something to her.

Carol pressed a hand to her belly and waited while everything fell silent. A standoff had been reached. For how long, she didn't know.

* * *

"_**How many women you say is**_ in there?" Danny Posada said. He was, Shane had realized early on, a psychopath that made him look like a lovable puppy.

"I saw a couple with Andrea and Carol. There's Michonne, then the woman Dave said he'd seen at the farm. Six at least."

"Six women," Posada whistled low. "I want the black woman. She looked hard as nails."

"She's mine," Shane said.

"I thought you had the pregnant woman?"

"She's mine too. The rest of them are good-looking women. I'll let you have Andrea," Shane promised, though he intended to do no such thing. Posada would torture her to death in a few hours. As soon as this was over, he planned to put a bullet in the man's head. None of the others would miss him.

"Andrea…"

"Long legs, blonde, hot as hell," Shane said.

Posada was mollified. "Sounds good."

"The rest of them hot?" asked another man, Patrick Nichols. He was a twitchy ex-Marine but not a bad guy. Well, not by their group's standards.

"I can't vouch for the older woman Dave saw, but yeah, I saw the others. They're young and pretty," Shane said.

"How long will we wait?" Posada asked.

"As long as it takes. Don't pester me with bullshit questions about time. We stay, in the trenches, until we get into the house. First man who thinks up a plan to get us inside gets two bottles out of that case of rum that I found last week."

The men grinned and Shane could see the cogs turning. The only one not in high spirits was Harold Dalton. He'd taken a bullet to the shoulder and wasn't too pleased about it. Charlie Adams started stitching him up from the first aid kit they'd brought with them. He'd been a field medic in the army and knew his shit, but there was nothing he could do to save Gayle Rollins, who had a bullet expertly placed right between his eyes.

"How's Dalton?"

"He'll live," Charlie answered.

"I got an idea," said Nichols. "Set the house on fire. They'll have to come out. Then we can pick the men off and take the women."

Shane clapped him on the shoulder. "That's why you get paid the big bucks. If it works, those bottles of rum are yours."

"Damn. Why didn't I think of that?" Posada lamented.

"Drive to the side of the house. Light it up," Shane ordered.

Shane and the others covered Posada while he jumped into the driver's seat. He brought the heavy truck around the side of the house while Adams took one of their full fuel cans and began to splash gasoline on the side of the house and poured it around the base. He lit an entire book of paper matches and dropped it onto the gasoline-soaked grass at the base of the house. It lit up with a loud bang and flames began to shoot up the side of the house.

"Back us off!" Shane shouted. "Take us out a few feet from the house. "Nichols, you take up behind that tree in the back yard. If a man runs out, you gun him down."

"Gotcha."

Nichols jumped down from the truck and ran to the tree in the back while Posada backed the tuck nearly to the fence. They stopped and waited there, careful not to give the snipers in the second floor anything to aim at.

* * *

"_**Daddy! The house is on fire!"**_ Beth yelled, as she came running downstairs with Andrea, Maggie, and Patricia close behind.

"Fuck," Rick swore. Tactically it was a solid move. He just didn't know how to counter it.

"We go out there they'll pick us off," Daryl pointed out.

Rick's mouth ran dry when he looked out at Shane, hoping to see a weakness in his defenses. That's when he saw them-walkers. Dozens upon dozens of walkers.

"Where's Dale?" Andrea asked.

Rick looked around. Dale was nowhere to be found. Rick could smell smoke, and he saw it curling into the room from the dining room window, gathering at the ceiling in a smoky haze. Shooters and walkers alike outside, the house burning…Rick had no idea what to do.

"I hear gunshots out back," Patricia said.

"Be careful Patty," Hershel warned, when Patricia went to investigate. She looked out back and saw Dale was held down by a man behind the tree in the back yard. She had just enough time to see the sniper take aim at her before a shot rang out. The kitchen window exploded inward and Patricia fell, her head a gory mess, her brains splattered across the kitchen and the refrigerator behind her.

* * *

"_**No, damn it!" Shane shouted. The**_ walkers were closing in, slowly but surely, and he knew there was no way they could handle that many walkers, even in an armored vehicle. They would be overwhelmed. The things may even manage to climb over one another to swarm the truck bed.

"Boss, we gotta fall back," Adams said.

"My women…"

"We gotta go, man!" Dalton shouted. He was practically a neon sign flashing at the walkers to eat him with his shoulder covered in fresh blood.

"Posada, drive back after Nichols," Shane ordered.

Once again the truck surged forward. Posada drove around to the side of the house where Shane found Nichols in a gunfight with Dale Horvath.

"I saw those walkers!" Dale shouted at Shane. "You brought them down on us with all this shooting and lighting the house on fire!"

Dale turned his gun on the tires of their truck. He took out the dual rear wheels in the back and the front tire, rendering the truck useless to drive.

"Dale, you son of a bitch!" Shane shouted. Dale had stranded him and his men on the farm, and walkers were coming down on them. Enraged, Shane unloaded a whole clip on Dale.

"We're fucked," said Dalton, hopelessness heavy in his voice.

"The barn. We'll hide in there. If we're quiet the herd will pass right by and never think to check the barn. Come on!"

He jumped down from the truck, unaware that Rick had heard every word he'd said.

* * *

"_**Get the RV," Rick said. "Daryl**_, get everyone inside and drive like a bat out of hell for our farm. I'll get Hershel's truck and follow you. Take the path through the trees like we practiced. Go!"

Rick made sure everyone had loaded safely into the RV, suppressing an urge to yell at Beth, who had paused to grab two photo albums from the living room table. He supposed he couldn't blame her. The house was going to be a pile of ashes soon and the photos held all of her family memories.

Once the RV was loaded up Rick fired up the truck and followed behind them. He stopped at the barn and grabbed a chain and padlock. He rushed to the doors, locked them, and then returned to the truck bed. He grabbed a can of gasoline and splashed enough on the doors to set them ablaze, effectively trapping Shane and his men inside. If they fled through the loft window they would sprain ankles landing. Even if they didn't, the fire would attract the walkers, who would swarm the barn and devour them as soon as they fled the fire.

_Two can play at this game,_ Rick thought, striking a match and setting the barn afire. He tossed the remainder of the gasoline into the bed of the truck just as walkers began to close in on him. He slammed the door shut and took off, flooring the gas pedal and knocking aside walkers as he rushed to catch up with Daryl and the others in the RV.

* * *

"_**Shit!" Daryl shouted. When he pulled**_ onto their farm it was to find it swarmed with walkers as well. The smoke, the fire, the noise of the gunshots had drawn more walkers than they'd previously thought.

"Glenn, take the wheel. I gotta get my bike."

"Leave it, Daryl," Maggie said. The last thing she wanted was Daryl going out there to die for a bike.

"I can't. It's all I got left of my brother. I'll be careful, Baby. I promise," he said, and jumped out of the RV. He used his knife to kill the three walkers that stood between him and the bike. Glenn had no choice but to get behind the wheel. He was relieved, though, when Daryl managed to get the bike started and drive off from the grasping hands of another group of walkers.

"Follow me!" he shouted, before tearing off for the dirt drive that would lead to the road.

"Daddy…" Maggie said, as she looked out at the smoke rising from their farm. Their house, everything they owned, was going up in flames and they were helpless to stop it. Hershel pulled his girls close and held tightly to them.

"Don't look, my sweet girls," he said sadly. "Don't look back."


	9. Epilogue

_**Ostensibly she was on watch, but**_ in reality she wanted some solitude. Carol stood over Sophia's grave and inhaled deeply of the night air. She could smell smoke in her clothes from the house fire. She'd probably have to wash them a couple of times to get the stink of sweat and smoke out of them. She didn't care. Most of their group had gotten out alive. That was all that mattered.

Inside the church she could hear Maggie and Beth mourning Patricia's loss. Rick and Michonne were visible inside, sitting on the floor, with Michonne leaning against Rick. Carl was asleep with a pillow in Michonne's lap and his head resting on it. She stroked his hair lovingly. They were going to make a very strong family, Carol mused. If anyone would beat this world it would be them.

She turned away from her friends and looked back at the grave. She had other business to get on with.

"Do you plan to stand there or are you gonna make a move?" she asked.

Shane emerged from the tree line surrounding the cemetery. "How long you know I was here?"

"Since Rick came in. I saw you come out from under the tarp in the back and dash into the trees."

"You didn't say anything?"

Carol shook her head. "I figured you wouldn't do anything until everyone was asleep."

She continued to stare at the stone cross that had once stood inside the church but now marked Sophia's grave.

"How did you get into the truck without Rick seeing you?"

Shane came to stand beside her. "I saw Rick comin' so I went around the side of the barn. When his back was turned I jumped in and hid under the tarp. Carol, you and me can go. I can keep you and the baby safe. You ain't gotta love me, at least not at first, but we can build something good. You know I'm made for this world, I can do this."

He saw the way her eyes lingered on Sophia's grave.

"I didn't know walkers would attack that night. I was never gonna hurt Sophia. Carol, look at me."

She looked up at Shane. She looked into the eyes of the man she hated and she saw, for the first time, how truly pitiable he was. How sick he was. How completely broken from reality he was. He couldn't fathom the consequences of his actions. He was truly lost. She stood and quietly listened as he rationalized his madness in a twisted apology.

"I messed up, bad. Rick told me to find a woman who could be mine. I should have just let Michonne go. I see that now. I should have done right by you but I got all caught up in my rage. I can do better, Carol. I can keep you and our baby safe. We can find someplace to settle down and be a real family. All you gotta do is forgive. Just give me a chance."

"You want a family, don't you? You want to be loved."

He nodded and Carol could see he was sincere when he said yes.

"You know, I've always loved poetry," she said. "T.S. Eliot is among one of my favorites. I've thought a lot about his work since I saw you sneak into the trees this evening. I remember, specifically, the words:

'_Between the conception _

_and the creation_

_Between the emotion _

_and the response_

_Falls the shadow.'"_

Shane stared at her in confusion. "Is that about our baby?"

"Six months ago Daryl went into town on a run with Maggie. He needed crossbow bolts. He found a beautiful wooden box and opened it. Someone had abandoned a pair of Japanese tanto. They're daggers that look a lot like smaller versions of Michonne's katana. They're excellent cutting blades but the fighting style Michonne has been teaching me requires more thrusting than cutting."

"Carol, what are you-"

Carol turned in one motion so smooth and fluid it didn't register as an attack to Shane. Michonne had taught her well and Carol had been a damn fine student. He felt very little pain, at first, as the incredibly sharp blade invaded his body, but when it hit, it hit hard. It left him breathless.

"Six months ago you thrust into me. You killed part of my soul. It's time I returned the gesture."

Carol withdrew the blade. Shane fell to his knees. He made a small, high-pitched noise of pain in the back of his throat.

"_'This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper.'"_

"Carol…" Shane sighed. His face was filled with the agony of his wound.

"I'm gonna let you turn. Michonne can put you down if she wants. I just want you to know this, Shane Walsh: This baby will _never _know your name. You will never exist in his world."

She sliced the dagger across Shane's throat. Blood spilled from the wound, the flow of which Shane tried to stem with his hand, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Carol watched the life fade from his eyes and he fell forward at her feet.

After she wiped the blade on his shirt, Carol sheathed it and then turned to go back inside. She'd been unaware that she had an audience. Rick, Michonne, Glenn, and Andrea had heard Shane and Carol talking and had come outside. They'd witnessed his end. Michonne nodded to her, and Carol returned it, before moving past them to go back into the church.

Carol lay down on the pew that would be her bed for the night and, for the first time in over six months, Shane didn't invade her dreams.


End file.
